Builderoth
by xx lunar queen xx
Summary: A collection of snapshots regarding the many adventures of Malroth and the Female Builder, both past and present with some AU oneshots thrown into the mix. Open to requests!
1. A Night in Skelkatraz

**As promised, here's the oneshot collection-thing! I'll be posting all sorts of little snapshots into Malroth and the female Builder's adventures, thoughts, feelings, anything really. I have so many little oneshots written up but not posted, so most of them will be finished/polished up and posted here. I may even write from other characters' perspectives, who knows?**

**If you guys have any requests for a oneshot, please feel free to leave a review or PM me! I will gladly give you credit for the idea. The only rules to keep in mind are:**

**1) I will not be writing NSFW. I don't have anything against it, it's just not my strong suit. The highest rating I will write is T.**

**2) I will mainly be focusing on the Female Builder's relationship to Malroth because she's who I main on DQB2. If that's not your jam and you're more of a Male Builder/Malroth person, no problem, just giving you a heads-up that this is what I'll be writing.**

**Let the Builderoth oneshots begin! :D**

**Also: there may be spoilers, so proceed with caution if you haven't finished the game.**

* * *

**A Night in Skelkatraz**

Malroth couldn't explain why he felt so at home in the dingy, poison-swamp filled cell. It was dark, damp, and dingy, yet it felt _perfect_.

He seemed to be a light sleeper by nature, never quite getting enough rest or resting too lightly to feel properly refreshed in the morning. Even with the meager straw beds they'd slept on in Furrowfield, he'd never been uncomfortable, but something always kept him on-edge. Alert. Too energized and restless to fall into a deep sleep. The Builder once suggested that his trouble with sleeping could be because he was expecting monsters to attack at any minute. She claimed to sleep lightly as well, yet he couldn't count how many times she'd snored and slept in after constantly pulling all-nighters at her workbench. Maybe he just hadn't been busy enough to wear himself out to the point of sleeping deeply. Who knows?

According to the other inmates at Skelkatraz, being thrown into the Hole was like being sentenced to death. Just the mention of the place caused all color to leave their faces, and some almost fainted at the very notion of having to spend time in this tiny little room filled with spikes and poison, yet Malroth and the Builder were made of tougher stuff than that. He had to give the girl credit: if she was scared at all, she never showed it. He could never tell when she was anxious or afraid of anything, and he could respect that. Malroth wouldn't think less of her for ever admitting fear over something, but she seemed to be just fine, no matter what they faced.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since they'd been thrown into the Hole. Minutes, hours, days... All he knew was that the Builder drifted off to sleep first despite her uneasiness. She was curled up beside him, her form small compared to his. He knew she was cold wearing those tattered rags the guards considered clothes. Malroth radiated heat like a furnace, so he shifted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her in an attempt to share some of his body heat. She unconsciously snuggled closer and he smiled. She was cute when she was asleep, probably dreaming up all sorts of new inventions and blueprints to make everyone happier.

She wasn't a defenseless girl, but she was soft at heart and her physical strength didn't even come close to matching his. She was better at talking to people and helping them see reason than lifting a sword... Which was _his_ specialty. He couldn't remember anything before waking up on the Isle of Awakening, but he knew he was made for battle. He had the strength of ten men at his disposal and he had enough muscle mass to help him look intimidating if his thunderous face and blazing red eyes weren't scary enough (he took it as a compliment when others told him this). Wherever he came from, he was obviously a warrior. He _had_ to be. And that strength came in handy when others started to give the Builder a hard time.

While the Builder worked to nurture and encourage hope in the hearts of everyone they encountered, Malroth worked to protect her. Much like he couldn't explain his comfort in this dingy cell, he couldn't explain what drove him to keep her safe. There was just something that made him want to look after her and ensure she was alright. It was that drive that led to them becoming close friends. She built things, he destroyed anything that got in her way. She made him stronger weapons, he used said weapons to keep the monsters from hurting her. They'd initially been partners trying to recruit more people to the Isle of Awakening, but many days and nights of talking, sharing stories with each other (the Builder mostly had stories to share; Malroth couldn't remember anything of his previous life), solving puzzles, and fighting side-by-side had resulted in them realizing they rather enjoyed each other's company. Malroth liked being around her; her bubbly optimism was contagious, and she never looked at him like a freak. Many others tended to give him a wide berth until they got to know him better, but from day one, the Builder had always treated him like a regular person. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when the Builder hadn't smiled at him or brightened as soon as she caught sight of him. Even when he tried his hand at building, only to have it literally blow up in his face, she'd still encouraged him to keep trying. She still made stronger weapons for him and cheered him on whenever he was fighting, whether he was in the heat of battle or playfully sparring with one of the Khrumbul-Dun miners.

Malroth could recall, on one hand (thankfully), the amount of times a monster had knocked her out cold and he'd had to carry her back to their base. Rosie and Babs had been instrumental in helping him patch up her wounds and create medicinal herbs to take care of any aches and pains that persisted. It was those times that made him grateful he was so inhumanly strong. She was brave, but she didn't have the fighting skills to back it up. To see her face bruised, nose bloody, eye swollen shut from a well-aimed punch... Those thoughts alone inspired him to fight twice as hard. Even now, although they weren't battling baddies, to see the Builder in tattered clothing, probably starving from only being allowed one cabbage a day... It bothered him. He _hated_ the idea of her struggling, of not having everything she needed. He hated the idea of her going hungry, being cold, or suffering from some ailment that he couldn't fix with a swing of his club.

When he'd given her his cabbage their first night on this dreary island, he hadn't thought anything of it. It had seemed like a logical idea: he hardly ever felt hungry anyway, and even when he did, he never needed to eat much. She, on the other hand, seemed to have a more normal appetite. When he'd handed her his cabbage, she'd pulled him aside after they were out of the guards' sight.

* * *

_"Please, you need this just as much as I do," she said, trying to give the vegetable back to him. "I don't eat much, so one cabbage is all I need."_

_Malroth refused, pushing it back into her hands. "You're already thin as it is."_

_"I'm thin, but not unhealthy. Please, Mal?"_

_"Keep it. It'll give me peace of mind."_

_She pouted. "And it'll give _me_ peace of mind to know that you had something to eat."_

_"You know I don't need to eat. Besides, you're the one who always has a trick up her sleeve; you need everything at your disposal to help plan our escape. One extra cabbage can go a long way, you know."_

_The Builder's lips lifted into a tiny grin. It was the first she'd cracked a smile since they'd ended up on this accursed place. "And what am I going to do with a cabbage?"_

_"I mean, you _could_ always throw it at one of the guards' skulls. Small headaches tend to morph into migraines, which means they'll be one guard short for when we sneak out of here. You have to look at the bigger picture here."_

_She giggled softly, that dopey grin still on her face. He liked that smile. It was good to see her smile again._

_"Hey, boneheads! Stop flapping your jaw bones and get back to your cells, NOW!" a guard yelled, interrupting the moment._

_The Builder sighed in defeat. "I'll keep it with me, but if you change your mind, let me know. I don't want you to go hungry."_

_"Not gonna happen, Builder, but I appreciate the sentiment. I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?"_

* * *

As the Builder slept on beside him, he felt his own eyelids growing heavier. Before he could close them and fall asleep himself, he was startled back to consciousness when he felt her cold, delicate hand slip into his. She wasn't awake or stirring, but she'd still reached for him, even in sleep. It made Malroth's heart melt.

He gave her hand a squeeze and could've sworn he saw her lips lift into a tiny smile despite the thick darkness around them.

He'd kept her safe thus far. He'd do whatever it took to make sure it stayed that way.


	2. In The Arena

**A very special thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! Wasn't expecting 5 favorites within a day; you guys are awesome and I hope you enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

_In which the Builder keeps saying, "Fight me!" and Malroth eventually concedes._

**In The Arena**

"Hmm... Maybe if I carve into that mountain, there'd be space for a changing room," the Builder muttered to herself, looking over the blueprint she'd doodled. The people of Scarlet Sands had requested a pool, but the blonde always liked to go above and beyond. It wouldn't do for them to make the long trek to the pool in their bathing suits, so why not have a changing room to the side to make things easier? The blueprint called for silver bricks, two fountains, some pool floats, a parasol, cocktails, and some beach chairs. It was going to be gorgeous once it was finished... She already had the necessary materials made and couldn't wait to get started.

And she would've if it weren't for her name being shrieked by a familiar pink-haired girl. The blonde barely had time to look up before Lulu was right next to her, steam practically coming out of her ears. Irritation and contempt rolled off the girl in waves and the Builder resisted the urge to sigh. The pinkette only got like this when a certain spiky-haired young man had gotten under her skin.

"Hey, Lulu, what's wrong?"

"_Malroth_ is what's wrong!" Lulu huffed, stomping her foot. "He just destroyed that beautiful relaxation room you built last week!"

The Builder tilted her head to the side curiously. "What do you mean he destroyed it?"

"He was being an idiot with a few of those miners and they started roughhousing. They got carried away and he accidentally pushed one of them through the glass wall."

Realization crossed the Builder's face. Instead of getting annoyed, she simply laughed.

_Typical._

Lulu stomped her foot again. "I'm glad you find it funny! That heathen we call our friend interrupted my massage!"

The blonde coughed in an attempt to stifle her giggles. "Sorry. You know Malroth; he can be a little impulsive at times. I'll go fix the wall."

"Thank you." Lulu smoothed out her skirt with a huff. "I still have tension in my back and I'd quite like to get it straightened out _without_ some neanderthal wrecking the place."

They made their way inside the pyramid, where Malroth and the miners were. The destructive young man was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly while one miner (who was probably the one he'd pushed into the wall) assured him that he was fine.

"No 'ard feelings, mate. 'Sides, that was a good match!"

"If you say so." Malroth turned at the sound of the Builder and Lulu approaching, and his face grew slightly red when the blonde gave him a knowing smile.

"I didn't mean to, uh..." He motioned towards the glass shards littering the tile flooring. At the mess, he rubbed his neck again. "I'm sorry."

The Builder chuckled, shaking her head. "Just be more careful next time." Then, nodding, towards the miner, "Are you alright? I have some medicinal herbs if you need one."

"No worries, lass, I'm fit as a fiddle!" He flexed his muscles. "Sorry 'bout yer room, though..."

"It's alright. I'll have it fixed up in a few minutes, but do you guys think you could clean all this up? We don't want anyone accidentally hurting themselves on broken glass."

"Oh, sure." Malroth and the miner immediately set off to find brooms. While they did so, it took the Builder maybe five minutes to put up a brand new wall, securing it to the rest of the room. When both men returned to help clean up, it didn't even look like anything had been broken save for the glass shards littering the sand.

"Cor blimey!" The miner clapped his hands. "That looks great!"

"Thanks." The Builder flashed him a kind smile. Even Malroth was nodding in approval, though he did bow his head sheepishly when his friend gave him a knowing grin. The boys set to work on cleaning up the remains of the previous windows. It didn't take them too long and they did their best, but as they worked, the blonde began to think: Malroth sparred with the soldiers and miners often, meaning that many times, accidents like this happened. What if he had his _own_ space to spar? Perhaps then that would cut down on the amount of times the Builder would have to rebuild stuff that had accidentally been sacrificed to horseplay.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. A specific space for sparring. _Now _there's_ an idea..._

* * *

The Builder grinned at her latest project. It had taken many moons and lots of hard work, but it was finally done; she just hoped Malroth liked it. He always appreciated the things she made for him no matter how small, but _this_... Skilled as she was, _this_ was one of her finest works. It was up there with the bars she'd built on Khrumbul-Dun, the Kazapple Cannon, and the Deitree. She was really proud of this and if he didn't like it for some reason, it would definitely be a kick to the teeth. But considering what this place was... She had a feeling he'd _love_ it.

The people of Scarlet Sands were gathered around the massive structure, everyone admiring it with awe and wonder.

"'Ow the 'eck did you fink of buildin' sumfin' like this?" Digby asked.

The Builder shrugged. "I kept thinking about all the sparring you and the other guys did while in Khrumbul-Dun and you always looked like you were having fun," she explained, leaning forward on her mallet. "So, I figured you guys could use a proper place to keep your fighting skills in tip-top shape."

The huge structure in front of them was, in fact, a spacious arena made entirely of golden bricks. It sparkled in the hot morning sun and there were seats all around the upper levels for crowds to watch prospective fighters duel it out.

"Finally! I finally 'ave a place where I can challenge Malroff to a rematch!" The miner from last week threw a few punches at the air and a few people chuckled.

"I hope he likes it," the Builder admitted. "I had him in mind when I decided to scribble it out as a blueprint."

"Somethin' tells me 'e's definitely gonna love it," Babs giggled.

"Thank you!" The Builder beamed. "Fingers crossed he does!"

"Fingers crossed he does what?"

Speak of the handsome devil, the Builder turned to see Malroth approaching them. He glanced at her before the golden structure behind her caught his attention, and his jaw dropped.

"Whoa... Are you working on another gold bar?"

"It's an arena!" the miner chimed in enthusiastically, running in place. "So we can 'ave that rematch!"

"An arena?" Malroth cocked his head to the side curiously at his blonde friend. "A place for fighting? I didn't think you were into that kind of thing."

"I'm not, but _you_ are," she chirped, grinning. "I figured you and the boys could use a space of your own to spar. What better place to do that than a fighting arena? You could even hold tournaments, make it a tourist attraction."

"Wait a second, is that a stage?" Babs pointed to a fixture slightly above the seating area, pushed back against the mountain.

The Builder looked pretty pleased with herself. "Yeah! It's not just an arena; if you and the other dancers wanna put on a show, you can do that as well!"

Babs clapped her hands together excitedly. "I can't wait! We'll do the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba jus' like old times!"

Magrog, Digby, and Dougie practically began drooling at the thought of their favorite lady dancing the night away onstage.

"First fing's first, we oughta 'ave a tourney!" Digby piped up. Magrog, Dougie, and a few other miners nodded in agreement.

Malroth grinned. "You're that eager to have your butts kicked by me, huh?"

"Yer goin' down for that, mate!" Dougie lunged after him and threw a few punches, each of which Malroth batted away with ease. As Digby joined into the fray, both miners trying to tackle Malroth to the ground as he playfully held them off, Babs giggled.

"I think this is the finest thing you've built next to that gold bar. We'll 'ave a right good time!"

"Oh, and I almost forgot to mention," the Builder said, pointing to the very top of her latest creation. "There are two firework cannons somewhere at the top, so if you guys wanna have a party or something, you can totally do that, too."

"Is there anythin' this don't 'ave?" Den asked, shaking his head in amazement. She smiled.

"To be fair, there's no bar attached, but if anyone wants a drink, they'll come rushing to you. It'll be great for business."

Babs chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "You always think o' everythin'. Amazin'."

* * *

As the Builder brushed out her long hair at the vanity, a knock sounded at the door. She didn't even look up from the mirror; she knew that knock.

"Door's open!"

Malroth walked in and immediately paused at the sight of her with her hair down. Usually, her taking down her pigtails signaled she was getting ready for bed.

"This a bad time?"

She smiled at him through her reflection. "Not at all. What's up?"

"I was wondering, what made you wanna build that arena?"

"Last week's incident had Lulu's feathers ruffled," she explained, wincing as her brush hit a tangle. "So, to avoid ruffling feathers in the future, I figured we could have a place set aside specifically for fighting. That way, you can spar all you want and there won't be any more walls taken down. It'll be good for the Cerulean Steppe soldiers, too; they finally have a place where they can train and have something to do."

"Ah, I see... Sorry again about last week." Malroth sighed. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength."

The Builder grinned at him. "Hey, I said _Lulu's_ feathers were ruffled, not mine. You could destroy a hundred walls and I wouldn't care, just as long as you're not hurt."

The spiky-haired man laughed. "Well, this new arena is brilliant. I was thinking of holding a tournament like you said, sounds like it could be fun. Griswold and Arisplotle already told me they'd be honored to face off against me."

The Builder smiled. Arisplotle was always trying to catch him off-guard, much to Lulu's displeasure and his own amusement, and now they could really go toe-to-slime. She was sure that in Malroth's eyes, the idea of getting to see just how tough his supposed followers were was exciting.

When the Builder finished brushing out her hair, she ran her fingers through the soft locks. Suddenly, a mischievous look crossed over her face and she grinned. "You know... _We_ should have a match. You versus me, one on one."

The master of destruction laughed in disbelief. "Are you kidding? I'd slaughter you within five seconds. I don't wanna see you in a fight with anyone, least of all me."

"It wouldn't be an actual fight, I'm not _that_ stupid. Think of it more as sparring. I know you're way stronger than I am, but hey, why not?"

Malroth shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"C'mon, I'll give you a free shot!"

"I don't need a free shot and I'm not fighting you."

"Why? Do you think I'm weak?" The Builder narrowed her eyes when Malroth nodded without hesitation. "Oh really? After I took on Atlas and I fought off your alter ego, you seriously think I'm weak?"

"You needed my help in both battles," he pointed out, his lips twitching into an amused smirk.

She huffed. "Okay, but still! Just one fight?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeeease?"

"Builder. No."

The blonde pouted. "You're no fun."

"When it comes to your safety, I'll gladly be a killjoy." Malroth was just about to leave when he heard her mumble something under her breath. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing." She shrugged innocently. "Just that, y'know, you're chicken."

He chuckled. "You really just called me chicken because I won't fight you."

She imitated chicken noises and he shook his head.

"Nice try, but my answer is still no. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I didn't realize you were so scared to fight me," she taunted, and he couldn't help but grin. She was cute when she was trying to be tough, he'd give her that much. He let himself out and headed up the ladder to his room, leaving a fuming Builder to her own devices.

* * *

The next week consisted of announcing that there would, in fact, be a fighting tournament held in the beautiful new arena, then sending out invites to Moonbrooke, Khrumbul-Dun, Furrowfield, and the Buildertopias for any and all who would like to enter said tournament. It wasn't just about fighting, though; it was going to be a proper event, a full-on festival with lots of good food, fireworks, dancing, and music. Saffron, Lillian, Haydin, and Molly, planned on covering the catering, Den ensured his bar was fully stocked with extra stores of wine and digger's jigger in his stockroom at the ready, and Babs trained her dancers in the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba. Everyone was busy and for once, the Builder wasn't needed. She actually had some time to herself, which meant she also had a lot of time to plan and think.

And what she was planning was getting Malroth to agree to one match. Even if he only agreed to ten minutes, she'd take it.

The man in question was sitting by the river in Green Gardens with Arisplotle, the metal slime keeping him company as they enjoyed the greenery around them. The air was fresh and crisp, autumn just around the corner, and the master of destruction's eyes were closed as he relaxed.

Until, of course, a pair of arms flung around him and he was tackled to the ground.

A fiery aura surrounded him and he growled, instantly breaking free from the person's grip and launching them off him. Whoever it was, they landed on their back with a sharp exhale and a pained grunt. He pulled back his fist and was about to let them have it when he realized who had tackled him.

"What the hell? _You_?"

The Builder grinned weakly at him through her pain, coughing as she held up her hands to shield herself from the punch that never came. The fist that had been poised and ready to make contact simply loosened and fell back to Malroth's side.

"What the hell were you thinking, jumping me like that?! Are you trying to get yourself hurt?" he demanded, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

She pouted. "No."

"Then what the heck were you doing?!"

He helped her sit up and she heaved a sigh, grateful that air had come back into her lungs. When Malroth had launched her off of him, she'd landed harshly and the impact knocked the wind from her. It wasn't an experience she'd like to repeat, but at least now he knew she could catch him off-guard.

_Mission accomplished._

When she realized he was still waiting for an answer, she meekly offered, "Testing my abilities?" and he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"You couldn't 'test your abilities' on a training dummy?"

"Don't you think training is better suited against another fighter? You know, like... in an arena?"

Malroth blinked at her before groaning. "You're still on about that?"

"Yes! I want to face off against you," she huffed. "We don't have to kill each other, I just wanna see what it's like to fight you. What's the harm in it?"

"Do you realize that that wall got knocked down last week because I literally threw that miner into it?" Malroth looked proud, but a hint of worry swam in his eyes. "I didn't mean to, but I really don't know my own strength sometimes. He was fine because he's tough, but _you_... I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Malroth, nothing's gonna happen—"

"My answer still stands. No."

He stood up and brushed his pants off before heading towards his house. The Builder groaned in frustration.

Arisplotle, who had witnessed the entire thing, bounced up next to her. "He's just trying to be a goo friend, you know."

"I know, but he needs to realize I'm not this defenseless little thing that can't handle herself in a fight. I'm just asking to spar with him, it's not a big deal."

The metal slime wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he instead kept her company as she laid back against the ground and watched the clouds pass by overhead.

* * *

The day of the tournament, Malroth came to see her briefly. He'd avoided her during the days leading up to the big event and she had to admit, she felt a little hurt by his aloofness. Why wouldn't he spar with her? Surely he remembered she wasn't, by any means, a _horrible_ fighter; she'd taken down his alter ego, after all, and although he _did_ provide some help, she was the one taking the brunt of the dragon's blows. The Builder might not have been as strong as Malroth, but she could still lift a sword. Didn't that count for anything?

She did, however, take some comfort in knowing Lulu had chewed him out a little for ignoring her; the pinkette had informed her of this herself. At least Lulu was on her side.

The Builder had just finished putting up her hair into its signature pigtails when a familiar knock sounded at the door.

"It's open!" she called, and Malroth stepped in. She swiveled around on her stool to face him, and he didn't fail to notice her usual sunny smile was absent.

"Oh. Hey."

"Hey," he replied. "Look, I just wanna know... Are we okay?"

"Of course we are, why wouldn't we be?" _You've only been ignoring me for yonks, but y'know, it's fine._

Malroth sighed impatiently. "You're pouting again."

She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly. "You've been ignoring me."

"Because you're just gonna keep trying to convince me to spar with you."

"Why is it such a big deal?" she asked. "Is it because I'm a girl? Is that why you won't fight me?"

"What? No." Malroth scoffed. "You being a girl has nothing to do with it. You know I occasionally spar with Zara and Anessa."

"Do you think I'm bad at fighting?"

He shook his head. "I've told you before, you've become a fine fighter. You're almost heroic."

"Then why not me?" She frowned. "Why everyone else except me?"

Sometimes Malroth wondered if she truly was an idiot. "Because you're my best friend. I don't wanna see you hurt and I don't wanna accidentally be the one to hurt you. You're not the worst fighter in the world, but someone like me could do serious damage to you, sparring or actually fighting. I didn't mean to knock that miner into the wall, but the fact is that I _did_. I don't want that to happen to you."

"You do realize that wall was made of glass, right? If anyone stumbled into it, it would get destroyed. Glass is fragile."

"Doesn't matter. I shoved him hard enough that he went flying into it and if I do recall correctly, there were some bricks around the windows. You can't tell me bricks are fragile."

The Builder huffed. All she wanted was one small match with him. He wasn't going to hurt her; she was made of tougher stuff than he seemed to think.

...And just like that, she had an idea.

"Alright, if you think I'm not able to handle an opponent like you, then why not train me to be a better fighter?" she asked, and her words gave the destructive young man pause. "Spar with me and show me how I can become stronger, strong enough to better defend myself and strong enough to take _you_ on."

He sighed. "Builder—"

"Just think about it. You don't have to say yes or no right now, I'm just asking you to think about it."

"Fine. I'll... I'll think about it." He watched her tidy up the mess of hair accessories on her vanity. "So... Are we cool?"

"We're fine," the Builder assured. To show him she meant her words, she lifted a hand up and he high-fived her, just like they always did.

* * *

The crowds were roaring with cheers, excited shouts, and clapping. People were packed into the stadium to the point where everyone was shoulder to shoulder. The Builder was squished between Babs and Rosie, which wasn't terrible; Rosie punched the air and cheered for Malroth while Babs lost her mind cheering for whoever was gaining the upper hand.

...Which, of course, always ended up being Malroth.

"DECK 'IM!"

"COME ON, MATE!"

"MAL-ROTH! MAL-ROTH!"

"GIVE IT SOME WELLY!" Babs screamed next to the Builder, making the petite blonde jump. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the tournament Malroth had organized, the seats filled with almost everyone from Cerulean Steppe, Green Gardens, and Scarlet Sands combined. Lots of folks from the nearby Buildertopia islands had traveled to watch the tournament as well.

Throughout each and every match, the Builder couldn't take her eyes off her destructive best friend. The sight of him grinning and laughing,(sometimes even looking downright serious if they were putting up a decent fight) as he traded blows with the other fighters, sweat glistening on his bare chest and shoulders, that determined fire in his eyes as he watched countless contestants step forward to meet him in a match... It did funny things to her stomach. She wondered if it was a little _too_ hot for a tournament.

Down in the arena, Dougie threw a punch that Malroth easily blocked, instead grabbing the man and flipping him over. The miner groaned at the harsh landing on the ground, staying there as the others counted him out, and Malroth chuckled, offering a hand to help him up once the bell rang. Dougie accepted it and clapped him on the back once he was on his feet again.

"That was a great match-up, mate."

"Agreed." Red eyes flickered towards the crowd. "So. Who's next?"

Murmurs rose up as his fiery gaze scanned over potential opponents, but no one volunteered. The Builder was seriously considering raising her own hand when someone else beat her to it.

"I am." Anessa stood up and made her way down to the fighting area, unsheathing her sword from its scabbard once she was in front of Malroth. A devilish smirk lifted his lips and he chuckled darkly.

"You really think you can take me in a fight?"

The warrior narrowed her eyes at him. "Arrogance never did anyone any favors, Malroth."

"Neither did talking."

With that, he rushed her and Anessa barely had time to block his attack, the general grunting at his brutish strength. The Builder watched intently as they met again and again in a stalemate, the soldier holding off Malroth's attacks as best as she could while taking advantage of any openings she could find to strike back (it was hard, though; Anessa was immensely skilled, yet Malroth left practically _no_ openings). She lasted in the ring much longer than Dougie, Digby, and the other fighters who had lined up to face off against him, but in the end, the destructive man was able to pin her to the ground with ease. As with everyone else, once the bell had been rung, he offered Anessa a hand to help her up and she accepted it graciously.

"Still as strong as ever, I see." She grinned. "Not bad at all."

"Not bad?" Malroth pretended to look disappointed. "I've got the strength of a god, you know."

The soldier ruffled his hair playfully, earning a few laughs from the crowd. A cry of protest escaped him and he swatted her hand away, much to everyone's amusement. A few more contestants stepped up to face off against the master of destruction, but none prevailed against him. The tournament lasted well into the night, with more prospective fighters stepping forward to challenge her best friend than the Builder could count. Malroth bested each of them with ease, and even the monsters who went up against him were amazed at his seemingly infinite, inhuman strength.

* * *

That evening, Malroth had just finished taking a much-needed shower and had just gotten dressed when someone knocked on his door.

He knew that knock. "Door's open!"

As he pulled on one of his boots, the Builder eased herself into the room and pointed at him with determination blazing in her bright blue eyes.

"Meet me at the arena in ten minutes!"

Malroth raised an eyebrow at her. "What happened to 'thinking about it'?"

"Forget that! I wanna face off against you!"

"You're right, forget thinking about it. We've been through this; I'm not fighting you."

"Yes you are! Meet me there and I'll show you I'm not weak!"

He placed his hands on his hips, looking very much unimpressed. "And if I don't?"

She frowned, looking around his room. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and he was just about to ask what was going on with her when she snatched up his beloved mallet.

What are you doing with that?" he asked.

"Until you agree to fight me, I guess you won't be able to mash monsters with this in the meantime." She shrugged, pretending to admire her craftsmanship.

"Put that back," he warned, and she grinned.

"Ten minutes, you and me. Be there or be square."

He growled her name menacingly and her grin only widened. She waved his mallet up teasingly.

She clearly wasn't going to stop until he gave in. Fire lit his eyes. Maybe it was time to teach her a lesson. "Okay, but you asked for it. Don't get mad when I have you pinned to the ground within a few seconds."

"Bold of you to assume you can even pin me down," she challenged, and before he could respond, she was out the door and racing towards the arena.

* * *

To Malroth's surprise, the arena was empty save for the Builder. Apparently, the after-party was being held within the pyramid, confirmed by the faint traces of music he could hear over the hum of chatter. His best friend was sitting on the railing, legs swinging to and fro as she watched the clouds above. Once she heard him approaching, she hopped down and greeted him with a grin.

"Guess you're not square after all," she teased. Malroth noticed his weapon resting against one of the archways, no doubt acting as the prize for humoring the Builder's request for a fight.

He also noticed she was dressed differently than usual. Tonight, she wore villager clothing: baggy white pants, a cropped white tank top with a sleeveless blue vest, and orange ribbons around her wrists and waist. Sandals adorned her feet. He briefly wondered if she'd worn that outfit this morning and he simply hadn't noticed, but it would make sense: Scarlet Sands was known for its scorching weather. The tournament had taken place all day long and well into the night; if she wanted to sit through the entire thing without getting heat exhaustion, the practical outfit to wear would be loose and allow her to breathe... Like what she was wearing now.

He had to admit, she looked nice. She definitely looked comfortable and her exposed midriff showed off a little bit of muscle from their adventures on Furrowfield, Khrumbul-Dun, and Moonbrooke. Maybe she wasn't as weak as she appeared, but the sandals... How was she expecting to fight him and win in _sandals_? From a warrior's perspective, open toes were a weakness. Any exposed skin was an exploitable weakness, and with how her arms, feet, and midsection were exposed, he could easily use all of that to his advantage. Was she trying to sabotage her chances?

No... That couldn't be right. The Builder might've had a simpleton's smile, but she was far from stupid, and she'd at least had the sense to leave her hoop earrings at home.

"You got a weapon?" he asked, and she withdrew a copper sword from its scabbard. He eyed it for a moment and fought back a chuckle.

"You do realize that's not enough to hurt me, right?"

"That's the point," she laughed. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want to spar and see what it's like to fight you. Call it morbid curiosity."

Then, she glanced towards his mallet. "Um... Do _you_ have a weapon?"

"Don't need one. Let's just get this over with."

With that, the Builder slashed her sword at him and he easily jumped out of the way. He was impossibly agile, so immensely strong that many times, she was glad he was on her side instead of against her. He'd make mincemeat of her within seconds if they were opponents on a battlefield; she shuddered to think what would have happened if Malroth had been evil.

He didn't tell her, but he was actually holding back each time they traded blows. He was afraid of accidentally hurting her (he still had nightmares of when Hargon tricked him, of when he thought he'd murdered everyone and the Builder; the last thing he wanted to do was make that a reality). He wasn't sure he could forgive himself if he caused her any sort of pain, whether it was unintentional or not.

The Builder continued swinging at him and Malroth dodged each blow with ease. However, at one point he saw an opening and used it to his advantage, making her stumble over her own feet. When she fell on her butt, he tackled her and pinned her to the ground, holding both of her hands above her head. His knees rested on either side of her body and he was careful to keep his full weight off of her, but it was clear he'd won this little sparring session. The Builder blinked in shock, then tried to wrestle him off as best she could. He didn't budge at all, even held her down with little effort, and simply smirked down at her.

"Having fun?"

"Oh, come on!" she cried. "This isn't fair at all! You made me trip!"

He laughed, some of his hair falling in front of his face. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but fighting ain't always fair."

Something in the Builder's eyes changed then, and before Malroth could ask what she was thinking, she leaned up and kissed him. His eyes grew wide with shock and in his surprise, he froze. She took the opportunity to flip their positions so that she was on top, her hands holding his above his head as she continued kissing him. Her eyes were closed in gentle concentration and he melted against her, his own eyes fluttering closed as her lips moved sweetly against his. He began to kiss back when she pulled back.

"All's fair in love and war," she muttered against his lips. He stared up at her, red eyes blazing with an unreadable look. They remained in that position for a few heartbeats, Malroth simply staring at her as if she'd just told him to do the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba naked. The Builder was about to ask if he was okay when his hands gripped her shoulders and she was pulled back down to him, his mouth closing over hers in a searing kiss.

Malroth was generally a rough-and-tough person, but his lips were warm and soft. His grip on her was gentle, as if he were afraid he would break her if he held too tightly. The Builder let her fingers to tangle into his smooth, fine hair, and she tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss. It didn't occur to her that she was _making out_ with her best friend until his arms snaked around her waist to hold her that much closer.

When she needed to come back up for air, he let her, and they both fought to catch their breath.

"You kissed me," he said, as if in shock that she would do such a thing. "Why?"

"Well, I mean, you _are_ pretty handsome," she teased, a grin lifting her lips. Malroth grinned as well, moving his arms to rest behind his head. "But you can also be infuriating when you're all smug."

"Infuriating, huh?"

She traced shapes along his bare chest with the tip of her finger, and it didn't escape her that her touch made him shiver. "Mm-hmm."

"And what, you decided to shut me up by kissing me?"

The Builder pretended to shrug. "That depends. Did it work?"

"Yes," he growled softly. "Do it again."

The blonde giggled and was about to oblige him, but she stepped up her game by placing kisses on his nose, cheeks, and forehead, then trailing her lips down to his jawline. All the while, Malroth struggled to keep his breathing steady. She was making him feel all sorts of things he'd never felt before, but they weren't bad feelings at all.

When he got tired of her teasing little kisses—she was purposely kissing everywhere _but_ his lips—he reached up and gently cupped her face. In the dim lighting of the golden braziers, he still saw mischief twinkling in her gorgeous blue eyes. Normally he'd make a teasing comment about that since _he_ was usually the one making mischief and the Builder was always the ever-responsible one, but no words came to mind. Something had changed between them and... _he liked it_. He didn't want it to stop. The Builder must have seen the tenderness in his eyes because she was merciful and leaned down, her hand coming to rest on his cheek as their lips met again at a slower, sweeter pace than before.

Popping and booming noises startled them and drew their attention to the top of the pyramid, where the first few fireworks exploded into the air, beautiful lights of varying colors igniting the night sky. Even from where they were, Malroth and the Builder could hear clapping and cheering from the spectators on the other side of the pyramid. The Builder gave a sheepish giggle when she realized she was still straddling her best friend's lap, and he offered an awkward chuckle as well. Once she moved off of him and he was able to sit up, he reached over and took her hand, and they watched the fireworks hand-in-hand while butterflies raged through their bellies.

Eventually, after the fireworks ended and almost everyone had gone to the hotel to sleep off one too many digger's jiggers, Malroth helped the Builder up and they brushed the sand from their clothes. The silence between them wasn't quite awkward, but they also weren't sure what to say.

"So... We kissed." The Builder was the one who spoke up, acknowledging the fact that they were best friends who'd just smooched. A line had been crossed tonight, but it wasn't something either of them minded.

Malroth had a twinkle in his eyes that she wasn't sure how to read. "We did."

"Did you like it?"

His mind kept replaying the moment her lips had first touched his. He'd never been kissed before, but now he couldn't get enough of it. He wanted to kiss her again and again until they were both breathless.

Instead of doing that, he settled for a quiet, "Yes. I liked it."

More silence passed before he asked, "Did _you_ like it?"

"Yes." Then, as she looked up at him shyly, "Is it okay that I kissed you?"

He didn't say anything. He merely cupped her chin and pressed his lips to hers. She melted against him immediately. His hands moved to rest on her hips, pulling her closer, and she wound her arms around his neck. They were as close as close could be and it felt all kinds of wonderful.

When the Builder pulled away for air again, Malroth rested his forehead against hers, eyes remaining closed as he enjoyed holding her. The Builder's small frame felt perfect against his own body. He wasn't sure what these feelings were, but he was happy she seemed to be feeling the same way.

"You know, I'm curious," she began, and his eyes opened to give her his full attention. "Why did you decide to fight me, anyway? What changed your mind?"

"Well for one thing, you stole my mallet."

The Builder chuckled. "That's a good reason."

"And you did have a point. Maybe I _can_ teach you a thing or two so that if I'm not around, you can better defend yourself."

"But you're _always_ around." The Builder had lost count of how many times she'd been working in various parts of the Isle, only to turn around and find Malroth hovering close by. He'd pretend to be doing his own thing, but she knew better. He liked watching her build stuff and he was used to protecting her while she worked. He stuck by her out of habit and he got grumpy whenever she left the island without him.

"Still." He slid his hand into hers, admiring how smooth and delicate her hand was compared to his own rough, calloused one. "There may be times when I'm not around, and I'd feel better knowing I was able to teach you how to defend yourself better than you already do."

"You do realize I was just saying that to get you to spar with me, right? I can defend myself just fine."

"Yeah, but there's always room for improvement. Especially when it comes to a lightweight like you."

"Hey!" The Builder smacked his arm playfully, earning a grin from him. "I'm not a lightweight! I won that match!"

"Uh-huh. Right. That's why I had you pinned in five seconds."

She smirked. "Really? Is that why I had YOU pinned for longer than that?"

Either the light of the braziers was playing tricks on her eyes or Malroth actually blushed as he looked away. "Distracting me is not winning."

"A win is still a win!"

Malroth chuckled and shook his head. The Builder watched him take a few steps forward before he suddenly lunged back at her, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp of surprise before pummeling his back with her fists, a few giggles escaping her.

"Malroth! Put me down!"

"Nah." He picked up his mallet and rested it over his other shoulder while whistling innocently. "And you know, you're right, a win _is_ still a win. You may have won the match, but I won _you._"

With that, he carried a blushing Builder towards the restaurant where Lillian had hopefully saved a plateful of food for both of them.


	3. Hurt

**Credit for the idea behind this oneshot goes to Mike AZ 2. Thank you so much for reviewing! ^_^ And please know that the other ideas you sent me are in the works and you will be credited for them as well. Thank you to Ciaxlia as well for your PM! I didn't forget ya, just not sure I can do your idea justice.**

**I hope ya'll enjoy! Let me know how you guys are liking these so far and do let me know if you guys have any other ideas or requests you'd like to see for these two. I may not be able to take every single request that comes my way, but I will certainly try my best! :D**

* * *

_In which Malroth gets injured and the Builder freaks out._

**Hurt**

"This place is kind of gross," the Builder complained, wringing out her hair for the umpteenth time. When she was satisfied her hair was no longer sopping wet with plasma, she pulled out her book and checked the eyeball off her list. Malroth shook out his own wild mane beside her, causing the Builder to groan and hold her hands up in an attempt to shield herself from the red water droplets. To his credit, he stopped and began wringing out his hair like a regular person.

"I dunno, I think it's rather lovely here," he remarked, taking in the entirety of the red island in all its stormy glory. The Builder blinked at him before shaking her head. Sometimes she truly didn't understand her best friend's tastes. She allowed her attention to drift back to the list in her hands, noting that so far, they'd found almost everything.

"What's left?" Malroth moved closer so he could get a better look at her checklist. From what he could see, they were almost done here; all they needed was to find some titanic bottom teeth and a giant horn, and then they'd be able to head home where Malroth could settle a score with some miners who'd been asking him for a sparring rematch.

"Let's search for the giant horn," the Builder suggested. "Seems like it'd be hard to miss that."

They continued their journey over the sanguine sands, occasionally stopping to vanquish any monsters that tried to get in their way. Lightning crackled above while thunder rumbled in the distance. The island did a great job of giving off a vibe of dread and unease to all who visited it; the Builder didn't have a good feeling about this place. It didn't help that the landscape reminded her of her time on Malhalla; she was happy to have met all her monster friends there, but that was only half of the experience. The other half consisted of feeling terrified, worried, and anguished that she wouldn't be able to save Malroth in time, and as she looked upon the sanguine sands, she remembered each and every moment she'd stressed over her best friend's fate.

When they'd rounded a mountain of chert, they came face-to-face with a huge stone guardian. It was massive, much bigger than any stone monster they'd ever encountered, and as the creature bumped its fists together to show it was ready to fight, the Builder quickly retrieved her sword and a fiery aura engulfed Malroth as he growled out, "Let's do this!"

He charged towards the monster and began swinging his mallet harshly. Normally, one or two swings was enough to bring a monster to its knees (or, well, whatever it had instead of knees), but the stone guardian didn't seem affected by the blows. It stomped forward with incredible force. Malroth was knocked on his backside from the impact, but that only made him angrier.

"GRAAAGH!" Jumping to his feet, he hit the super strong monster with all his might. The Builder took a few swings with her meager sword, doing significantly less damage than Malroth, but she knew from past experience that every little bit helped when it came to taking down these big baddies.

The more they fought, however, the less they seemed to be making any sort of progress. No matter how much the Builder and Malroth caused the monster damage, the monster hit back harder and it _hurt_. The blonde sported quite a few bruises and her ribs ached from being knocked around, and Malroth fared no better; in fact, he looked _worse._ Bruises and a bloody nose were the least of his worries; he was moving slower, his breathing labored, and he wasn't hitting as hard as he initially was. The monster was still completely fine as if they'd just began fighting. The Builder realized then that they'd been foolish to start this battle; they'd been at this for a while now and they hadn't even made a dent in its health.

Suddenly, the stone guardian stomped forward again and sent Malroth flying into the sand face-first. Time slowed to a crawl as the Builder froze, watching as the destructive young man laid there unmoving. He barely had enough energy to turn his head towards her, his eyes shut tightly in agony.

"_MALROTH_!" The Builder dropped her sword and sprinted towards her fallen friend, narrowly avoiding a critical attack from the huge monster. Malroth was barely conscious as she fell at his side, her hands immediately touching his face. She'd been so focused on trying to help him cut this creature down that she hadn't realized just how much damage he'd been taking. Malroth tended to take the brunt of each attack because he often thought she was weaker, and as a result... He didn't look too good. He looked like he was _dying_.

"D...Damn it..." he hissed through gritted teeth, and then, to the Builder's horror, he closed his eyes and went limp.

"No no no." Her hands hovered over his face, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. "Malroth, c'mon! You have to get up!"

He remained still. Behind them, the Builder heard the stone guardian hopping towards them. She used all her strength to lift Malroth, then activated her warping magic to get them back to the ship. Brownbeard was shocked to see a bloody, bruised Builder shouldering an equally banged-up, unconscious Malroth.

"Set a course for the Isle of Awakening immediately!" the Builder managed to bark out, cutting off any questions Brownbeard might have asked. She lugged her best friend onto the deck and eased him down, allowing his head to rest on her lap, and she took off her scarf to use as a makeshift wrap for his arm. Thankfully, Brownbeard didn't push her for answers and didn't need to be asked twice. He hurried towards the steer and did as the Builder instructed, quickly raising the anchor and heading back towards the sunny shores of the Isle of Awakening.

The sight of the open seas had never been more comforting than in that moment. As she assessed her best friend's wounds, she realized he had suffered far worse than a bloody nose and bruising: he definitely had a broken arm, multiple open gashes, he winced every time he moved so he must've had some internal damage as well, and he had to have suffered a concussion. The Builder placed her hand near his nose and a sliver of relief washed over her at the fact that he was still breathing. It was labored and shaky and his pulse was slow, but he was still alive. However... He didn't flinch or stir when she wiped the sand and blood from his face, and for the first time since Malhalla, she felt dread in the pit of her stomach.

_What if he... What if he doesn't wake up?_

At that thought, the Builder couldn't help it: she began to cry. The tears rolled down her dirtied cheeks faster than she could stop them, some even landing on Malroth's bruised, bloody face. She sniffled and tried to pull herself together, but the harder she fought, the faster the tears came. She cradled his head in her lap and sobbed silently, hoping and praying that her best friend made it out of this alive.

* * *

When Malroth opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find that he was no longer subjected to the cold, dreary atmosphere of the Unholy Holm. Instead, he found himself staring up at a ceiling made of mud-bricks. He was lying on a soft bed and the faint scent of turf-n-truff teased his nostrils.

Soft snoring grabbed his attention and when he turned his head, he saw the Builder fast asleep beside him. She was propped up in a nearby chair, her head resting on her arms, much of her upper body leaning against the bed. She looked terrible: dried blood was caked around her nose, which was a little crooked (was it broken? He was pretty sure it was), and her face was covered in ugly purple bruises. It made him want to grab his mallet and bash the skull of whoever or whatever had done this to her.

"Good to see yer back in the world o' the livin'."

Malroth nearly jumped at Babs' voice. The Khrumbul-Dunnian dancer was standing in the doorway holding a plate full of seared steaks and grilled mushrooms, as well as a glass of digger's jigger in her hands. She offered Malroth a kind smile before fully stepping into the room.

"Where am I?" he asked. If he didn't know any better, he'd guess he was in the Scarlet Sands hotel. There weren't too many noises outside, so it had to be nighttime.

"Yer in Scarlet Sands," she confirmed. He watched as she set the meal down on the nightstand, careful to step around the Builder. "You were out for two days."

"Two days...?" Malroth glanced down at the snoring blonde. "What happened?"

"You an' the Builder were off at one of them Explorer's Islands," Babs explained, careful to keep her voice hushed so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. "You both were gone for 'bout two days. When you finally came back, the Builder brought ya 'ere and was in a right state of panic. In 'er defense, you looked pretty bad."

The destructive young man blinked. He couldn't remember the last time the Builder had had to drag him out of a battle and to safety. If anything, _he'd_ been the one to bring her back to base. He could handle himself in a fight quite well, but she... She worried him sometimes.

He glanced down at the blonde in question. "What about her? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. We made lots of medicinal 'erbs for 'er, it's just gonna take time for the bruisin' to go down. She don't heal like you do, but she'll be right as rain in no time."

At that, Malroth relaxed. _As long as she's fine._

"Ya know, I remember when you used to lug the Builder back anytime you guys went up against some tough monsters in the mines," Babs remarked, a soft smile playing on her lips. "This is the first time I've ever seen 'er 'ave to do that for you. She refused to leave yer side, even after we got Esther, Zara, Anessa, and Rosie to help tend to your wounds. Esther reassured 'er that you'd pull through and told 'er to get some sleep, but she wouldn't 'ear of it. She stayed right by your side every step o' the way."

Warmth flooded his chest at that. He knew the Builder cared about him, but it was nice to hear she cared enough to stick by him even after his wounds had been tended to. "Has she eaten at all?"

"Not much. She was more worried over 'ow you were 'oldin' up. Wouldn't sleep, only ate a bite 'ere and there... If if involved leavin' ya, she refused."

Malroth looked over the blonde's bruised face and frowned. "How... How bad was I?"

At his question, Babs' smile faded. "Bad enough to give us all a fright. In all the time we've known ya, I don't think any of us 'ave ever seen ya in such a rough state. The Builder thought you were gonna kick the bucket. It was dodgy for a little while... You weren't wakin' up fer nothin'. All we could do was wait an' let the medicinal 'erbs work their magic."

The master of destruction tried to envision himself looking so beat up that it caused his best friend such heartache. It was hard to picture; he was a skilled fighter who never let anyone close enough to leave a scratch, let alone almost do him in.

But... She'd worried about him? So much that she hadn't slept and stayed with him every minute?

Before he could ask Babs any other questions, the Builder stirred. As the blonde woke up more fully, she immediately caught sight of a fully conscious Malroth. She jumped up, startling the destructive young man in the process, and didn't even register the fact that Babs was in the room... Or that the woman quietly let herself out to allow the two friends some privacy.

"Malroth! You're awake!"

"I am," he replied, watching her curiously. "Are you okay?"

The look of relief that washed over her features said it all. She looked like she wanted to hug him but thought better of it, not wanting to accidentally aggravate any lingering injuries. Her arms, which had raised up to hug him, dropped back down to her sides awkwardly. "Never better. I'm glad to see you up and at 'em again."

She certainly didn't look "never better," but he humored her. "What exactly happened on the Unholy Holm? Babs said you had to carry me all the way back."

The Builder nodded, and when she finally sat down, Malroth noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She really _hadn't_ been sleeping.

"We took on a super strong monster but we severely underestimated its strength," she explained, rubbing at her face. "We didn't even make a dent in its health. It knocked you out cold and nearly did the same to me, but I managed to grab you and warp us back to Brownbeard before we both got killed."

"You mean... I really almost died?" It was strange to think that even after Malhalla, Malroth could be susceptible to mortality. Hadn't he achieved godlike superpowers? He'd wondered if that had made him immortal, virtually indestructible, but apparently now he had his answer.

"No, but you looked like you were on the brink of death. Definitely worse for wear. I don't think I've ever seen you that bloodied before." Malroth was surprised to see the Builder's eyes grow watery. "I was worried."

He forced a chuckle. "You don't need to worry about me, you know I heal fast, and besides, if a monster did manage to somehow kill me, I'd want you to leave me behind. Make sure _you_ get to safety."

The Builder didn't nod or agree like he'd figured she would. Instead, to his horror, her expression crumpled and she began to sniffle, tears rolling down her cheeks. The dam quickly broke and she began to sob quietly. He'd never seen her cry before, not even when they'd had that tiff in Moonbrooke, so he wasn't sure how to react. Part of him wanted to hug her, but he wasn't sure if that'd be weird.

"I would never l-leave you," she cried, wiping at her eyes. "You're my b-best friend and I don't know what I'd do w-without you. If you ever get hurt, I'm staying with you. I'll protect you with my life if I have to."

"But isn't that _my_ job?" He reached out and took her hand into his. "In a way, I was created to protect you while you work. Not the other way around."

"I don't c-care. I would never leave you there if you got hurt. That's not what friends do."

Malroth's heart warmed at her words. She was nothing if not loyal and he could appreciate that. "Alright. I understand."

Her tears slowly began to dry as she continued wiping her eyes. All the stress of not knowing whether or not Malroth would be okay finally left her, and she let out an exhausted sigh.

"You really worried me, you bugger," she said.

Malroth chuckled. "Sorry. I promise it won't happen again."

"It better not. I'll kick your butt."

"I'm shaking already."

The Builder went to rest her head on her arms, probably to go back to sleep, but Malroth stopped her. "You, uh... You look uncomfortable sitting like that. Why don't you lay here with me? You look like you could use some rest."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly interrupted her. "You've been looking after me all this time, now let me look after you."

Wordlessly, the Builder complied. She toed off her boots and climbed into bed with him. She curled up on her side, facing him, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyelids grew heavy. Malroth bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his chuckle; she could be so cute sometimes.

"Promise you'll be here when I wake up," she murmured, reaching a hand towards his. He took it without hesitation.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," he assured, allowing his free hand to run through her hair. "Get some rest. I'll see you when you wake up."

* * *

The next time the Builder opened her eyes, she felt much better than she had in days. The exhaustion and stress that had been weighing her down had finally lifted, which was good, and she was surprised to feel a warm body curled around hers. A strong arm was wound around her midsection and held her securely against a firm chest.

She chanced a look behind her to see Malroth pressed up against her, his face half buried in her hair. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling gently with each slow, even breath. He looked much better than their conversation the night before and she let out a relieved sigh.

When she realized the intimate position they were in, she blushed but was careful not to disturb him. She eased herself back down and placed her hand over his, enjoying the warmth and feel of his body. If she didn't know any better, she'd say they fit together like two puzzle pieces. A strange butterfly feeling started up in her stomach when she started thinking about how she was currently in Malroth's protective embrace. It was nice...

"Good morning," she heard him mumble, his voice husky with sleep. He sounded groggy and she giggled softly.

"Good morning to you. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No."

"Alright. Just making sure."

"How are you feeling?"

"I should be asking you that."

"'M fine. Happy."

The Builder blushed again. "Happy?"

"Mm. You're in my arms. Safe."

She shifted to face Malroth, who still appeared to be half-asleep. She was a little surprised at his statement (and flattered, if she was being honest). Did he know what he was saying? Was he still dreaming?

When he finally opened his eyes, blinking the sleep away, he still looked like he could use a few more hours of rest, but all of his bruises were gone. Even his nose, which had been crooked, seemed to be back to normal. He looked fit as a fiddle, just like always, but most importantly, _he was awake_. He was still with her, just as it should be.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked. She gave an affirmative nod and he smiled. "Good."

The blonde wondered if he'd meant what he'd said. Was he really happy that she was in his arms? That didn't quite sound like friendship... That sounded like something a little more romantic. Did Malroth even know what romance was? And how did _she_ feel about all this? The butterflies in her tummy weren't from waking up refreshed, that was for sure...

"Babs told me you stayed with me the whole time I was out," his voice tore her from her thoughts. "Thanks for looking after me."

Her face felt like it was on fire. "N-no problem. To tell you the truth, I didn't do much; the other girls did more for you than I did. I was freaked out and not thinking clearly, kept screwing up the recipe, so they were the ones who managed to make the medicinal herbs."

"You did a lot more than you're giving yourself credit for." Malroth reached up to brush a few strands of hair from her face. "You stayed with me through my time of need. That means a lot."

"Of course I stayed. I told you before: you're my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without you." That dopey grin returned and Malroth had never been happier to see her smile. "Besides, whenever I've gotten hurt in the past, you always stayed right by my side until I was better. I kinda owed you."

He chuckled. "Still. Thanks."

Malroth opened his arms and the Builder snuggled closer to him. He wrapped her in a tight embrace and surprised them both by placing a kiss on her forehead. Outside, they could hear the miners riding the railroads the Builder had set around the sandy region. They knew they should probably get up and face the day—Malroth knew everyone was probably waiting to see him and the Builder most likely had projects waiting to be proposed by all three parts of the Isle. However, as they lay there together, simply admiring each other and enjoying the moment, nothing else mattered. They were just happy to be alive and safe; they had each other and that was all they needed.

And one thing was for certain: next time they decided to go to the Unholy Holm, they'd bring an army with them. That stone guardian would regret the day it picked a fight with Malroth and his Builder.


	4. Fever Chills

**Shout out to Mike AZ 2; this oneshot is inspired by your idea to have Malroth look after an ill Builder. And Ciaxlia, know that your ideas are definitely in the works! Ya'll have some pretty awesome ideas, I have to say; I'm excited to write them! :D**

* * *

_In which the Builder pushes herself too hard._

**Fever Chills**

The Builder wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. She shivered despite the roaring fireplace close by, trying and failing to stay warm.

Her body had been feeling achy and cold ever since this morning. She'd woken up feeling like death: her nose stuffed up, throat scratchy, and anytime she tried to sit up or move, she got so dizzy that she was forced to lie back down. It was frustrating to think she'd gotten sick, especially when she'd been making such fast progress on her latest project. Now she had no choice but to wait.

The blonde had been working on building a castle town for the folks of Cerulean Steppe for the past few days now. Countless snow squalls had billowed around her and yet, she'd worked through it as if it weren't happening, building and crafting until her fingers were numb from the cold. The building she was currently finishing was going to be a town hall, perfect for when the citizens of Cerulean Steppe managed to find a mayor. Lulu was already the self-proclaimed princess and now all she needed were political underlings. At least now if they _did_ find someone to be mayor—someone who wasn't Bonanzo—they had a proper place to hold town meetings.

The Builder wasn't good at taking breaks, especially not when she was inspired to finish a new project such as this, and she would've kept at it if a certain pink-haired girl hadn't approached her.

"Builder," she began. "You've been at this for days, now."

"So?" The blonde peeked out from above the roof she was finishing up. Lulu stood below, mitten-encased hands on her hips. She sported a thick fur coat and looked rather warm despite the biting air around them.

"What do you mean 'so'? When's the last time you took a break to eat or sleep?"

That was a great question. She'd scarfed some gingerbread cookies that very morning, but she hadn't slept in yonks. To be fair, she wasn't tired; she had stuff to do. "No idea, but I'm fine."

"You most certainly are _not." _Lulu folded her arms across her chest. "Come down here this instant! It's freezing out here, you need to come inside and warm up!"

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm almost done up here." The Builder patted the roof proudly. "I'm not coming in until I'm finished."

"You'll catch your death if you don't go inside soon."

"I'll be fine, scout's honor."

Lulu stomped her foot. "Builder, as your princess, I order you to come down right now!"

The Builder offered her friend—ahem, _royal_ friend—an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Lulu."

"You _will_ be sorry when I call Malroth over here!"

At that, the blonde paused. While Lulu didn't have the brute strength to literally grab the Builder and make her stop building, their destructive best friend _did_. The Builder wasn't good at taking breaks once she was inspired; there had been quite a few times in Furrowfield, Khrumbul-Dun, and Moonbrooke when he'd had to literally throw her over his shoulder and force her to take a break. And while she appreciated that her friends cared about her, dang it, she had stuff to do! It bothered her when she couldn't get something done on her own time. She wished her friends could understand that.

Even if Lulu did call Malroth over, the Builder was making record progress. By the time he came over to force her to take a break, she'd already be done. She might as well keep building until then.

"Go ahead and call him," the Builder replied, waving her off. "By the time he gets here, I'll be done and you'll look silly."

"Fine, I will!" Lulu stormed off with a huff, leaving the Builder to continue her work in peace.

* * *

It began snowing again when the Builder had managed to finish the town hall and started working on a nearby study room. If she'd been cold earlier, roughly three hours ago when Lulu had left, she certainly didn't feel it now, only proving her point that she was fine. She didn't need to take a break when she was feeling great. She had things to do and blueprints to complete, and so that's what she continued doing. The Builder was starting to rummage through her backpack for more roof tiles, just about ready to finish this next building up, when a new voice rang out.

"Yo, Builder!"

The blonde tensed.

_Malroth._

"Builder, I know you can hear me. Get down here right now before I smash this building to bits."

"You wouldn't dare!" she cried, peeking at him from her perch on the roof. Lulu had been true to her word about siccing Malroth on her; the destructive young man stood there next to the pinkette, red eyes blazing while his lips were set in an annoyed frown. He didn't have half the layers Lulu wore, yet the cold didn't seem to bother him. He didn't even flinch at the snowflakes that kissed his face and chest.

When he saw the blonde's fearful expression, he grinned evilly and brandished his mallet. "Wanna bet?"

_As Gerome would say, _gadzooks_,_ h_e's serious._ "Can I at least finish the roof?"

"I'll give you the count of three. One... _Two_..."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming down! _Sheesh_." The Builder reluctantly closed up her backpack and her way down the ladder. As she climbed down each rung, she realized her legs were so cold and stiff that it was difficult to move. Her fingers and toes were completely numb; she could barely flex them. The freezing temperatures around her had settled into her entire body and she hadn't even noticed. _That_ was not good. Maybe... Maybe she should've listened to Lulu earlier.

When she'd safely made it down, stiffly walking over to her two best friends, Malroth didn't waste any time. He picked her up and put her over his shoulder. She let out an indignant yelp as he began to carry her off towards the hotel, embarrassment coloring her already-rosy cheeks as the entirety of Cerulean Steppe looked on in amusement. Seeing Malroth carry the blonde over his shoulder was nothing new; they knew he was her self-appointed supervisor. The girl would run herself into the ground if left to her own devices for too long.

After getting her some hot food, something to drink, a warm, dry change of clothes, and a chair to sit in front of the fireplace, Malroth seemed satisfied. He sat with her while she ate, stretching his arms above his head. They didn't speak due to her shoveling food into her mouth (when had she gotten this hungry? She didn't even remember feeling her tummy growl), but no words were needed. The Builder knew Malroth was sticking close to make sure she didn't run back outside and she knew better than to try to outrun him; he was way faster and stronger than she could ever hope to be.

When her stomach was full and she had feeling in her appendages again, she started feeling sleepy. Malroth once again picked her up, albeit bridal style this time, and carried her to the temporary home she'd built for them that was located right across from the castle. As she climbed under the blankets and curled up on her side, Malroth tucked her in and patted her shoulder.

"I'll be right outside the door if you need anything," he said, a dangerous twinkle in his ruby gaze. "And don't you dare try to sneak out. You know better than to think you can pull a fast one on me."

She murmured out a promise that she wouldn't sneak out, the dark depths of unconsciousness already pulling her under. Before she went to sleep, she noticed her body still felt cold and a little achy. Perhaps she'd caught a nasty chill, and with that final thought, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

...But when she woke up, that was when she realized the unthinkable had happened.

The Builder couldn't get warm no matter how many blankets were wrapped around her. She felt like death; her throat was scratchy, her nose was stuffed up, her head felt like it weighed a ton, and aches in her body had gotten much worse than the previous night. No matter how hot the fireplace was and no matter how many blankets she wrapped around herself, and relentless chills wracked through her body. The sunshine that filtered in through the windows was too bright, forcing her to cover her face with a blanket. She'd only experienced something like this a few times when she'd lived in Cantlin; it was with a heavy heart that she admitted to herself that she had the flu.

Still, she had things to build. She couldn't let some stupid sickness keep her from completing what she desperately needed to finish. The last thing she wanted was for the others to think she was weak and pathetic, that she couldn't follow through on her promises to build them wonderful things. The Builder forced herself to get up despite the debilitating headache and dizziness that plagued her. She was struggling to pull her boots on when Lulu let herself into the small home and strode into the bedroom.

"Good morning, Builder! How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," the blonde gave a nod, repressing a sniffle. _Stupid runny nose_. "Much better, thanks. I'm gonna get back out there."

Lulu tilted her head to the side. "You sound funny."

"Wow, rude."

"No, I don't mean it like that. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

The Builder stiffened. Nothing ever got past Lulu, did it? "Why wouldn't I?"

"You don't look so good. In fact, you look rather pale." Without warning, Lulu approached her and placed the inside of her wrist against her forehead. Her cold skin felt like a shock to the Builder, who winced and pulled back from the pinkette's touch as if she'd been burned. "Yup, just as I suspected. You're running a temperature."

The Builder scoffed, this time giving into sniffling. If she could just get her nose to quit being annoying... "I'm fine."

"Not a chance. Back to bed with you."

"But I'm fine!" The blonde protested weakly. "I have to finish—"

"You're not finishing anything in that sorry state."

Malroth, who had apparently remained in the next room this whole time and had heard the entire exchange, appeared beside Lulu. He was surprised to see how sickly the Builder looked: she was paler than normal and her eyes were glassy, her nose slightly red from her rubbing it constantly. Her lips looked a little rough and cracked, and he wasn't sure if she realized that she was shivering something fierce. He himself had never gotten sick, nor did he think it was possible, so to see her look so weak worried him.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine." The Builder tried to stand up on wobbly knees, but she didn't last long before another wave of dizziness overcame her. She was forced to sit back down on the bed and a particularly violent chill tore through her. Her whole body felt like ice; if she could just get warm...

"No, you're not." Malroth moved past Lulu and helped the Builder get back under the blankets, where she continued to shiver and sniffle. To her credit, she didn't try to fight him or protest. "Hey, Lulu, how do we help her with this? I've never seen anyone get sick before."

"She's going to need lots of rest and she needs to drink plenty of fluids," Lulu replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Some warm milk, water, and vegetable smoothies should help keep her hydrated. I'm going to go ask Gerome to make some of that soldier's stew he's always boasting about, that should help boost her immune system. Perhaps Sister Esther will have some medicine lying around as well."

"Sounds good. I'll stay with her, make sure she doesn't set foot outside."

Lulu gave a nod before leaving. When it was just Malroth and his stubborn, beloved Builder, he used the nearby fire poker to stoke the flames. He looked at her shivering, weak form and sighed, coming to sit beside her.

"You really did it to yourself this time."

The Builder cracked open her eyes to see Malroth watching her with an unreadable expression. She tried sitting up, even tried to say, "I'm fine," but a coughing fit interrupted her. She grasped at her aggravated throat and whimpered at the increased pain there. Sympathy and concern flickered across Malroth's face and he quickly fetched her a glass of water. She murmured a 'thanks,' and while the cool liquid soothed her throat for a few minutes, the pain returned shortly after. The Builder felt miserable.

"I _hate_ being sick..."

"This is why you should've listened to Lulu," Malroth chided, taking the empty glass from her and placing it on the nearby nightstand. "If you had paid better attention to your body's needs, you might not be in this mess."

"But I was making good time—"

"Builder, why do you push yourself so hard?" He cut her off. "Who's asking you to build this stuff in only a day's time? Who's putting pressure on you to work this quickly?"

"No one," she replied, slightly astounded by his question. "I... I just like getting things done as fast as I can."

"Why didn't you allow yourself to take a break? Do you realize you could've gotten frostbite and lost a finger or toe?"

The Builder's cheeks burned despite the fever. She didn't know what to say to that because he was right.

Malroth sighed and gently pushed her back down. "I understand you like getting things done on your own time, but you gotta take your health more seriously. I'm not one to lecture, that's Lulu's specialty, but this isn't healthy behavior."

"This is the only time I've gotten sick—"

"Yeah, and you're in a pretty bad state. All those all-nighters and days without food finally caught up to you. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"You act like I never take care of myself, but I do."

"Right. That's why you spent entire days out in below-freezing temperatures without eating, sleeping, or taking a break to warm up. Because that's _definitely_ taking care of yourself."

_I don't need to be called out like this..._ The Builder sniffled indignantly. She wanted to protest, but what could she say? Malroth was right in every respect. She did need to start taking better care of herself.

More chills swept through her body and she shivered, her teeth practically chattering together. Malroth noticed and tilted his head to the side.

"Do you want me to poke the fire again?"

"N-no," she whispered. "It's not doing much. I just have to ride this out, I'll be f-fine."

He watched her continue to shiver before he shed his jacket, bone necklace, and boots, climbing under the blankets with her. The Builder normally would've blushed like crazy and asked what he was doing, but it became clear when he wrapped his body around hers. He was ridiculously warm, but then again, he wasn't a regular human man; he was, well, Malroth.

She shifted to face him and snuggled as close as she could, reveling in his body heat. The chills slowly began to leave her and she nuzzled her face into his chest.

_So... Warm..._

"Is this better?" he asked softly, and she nodded, her eyelids growing heavy. She didn't want to fall asleep. She wanted to get back to her project; it was bugging her that she was so close to finishing it yet she _couldn't_, and Malroth seemed to sense her inner turmoil because he began to stroke her hair. His fingers gently massaged her scalp and her eyelids began to feel even heavier. Maybe rest wasn't such a bad idea after all...

* * *

True to her word, Lulu had brought an entire pot full of fresh soldier's stew, some bread, a few plates of grilled greens, and some medicine to help reduce the Builder's ailments. After a bowl of stew, lots of water, and a little bit of medicine, the Builder finally began to feel better. Malroth stayed with her throughout the worst of it. He only got up to shower and take care of his own needs when he was sure she was fast asleep. She'd wake up only to feel him getting back into bed, his hair and skin damp, the faint smell of soap still clinging to him.

There came a point where she thought she was in the clear and tried to sneak out of bed. That had proved to be fruitless:

_The Builder gave herself a few minutes to gauge how she was feeling, and when she decided tossing a few blocks up wouldn't be a bad idea, she decided to try and get up. She'd certainly been lying in bed for enough time; she had to be better by now._

_Malroth was still curled around her, his arm wound protectively around her waist. His breathing was slow and even, like he was in a deep sleep, and she carefully lifted his arm to unwind it from her body. When she managed to do so, she eased herself away from him and sat up, getting ready to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She thought she was in the clear when a pair of strong, warm arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back into a firm chest, earning a shriek from her._

_"Goddess, I thought you were asleep!"_

_"Fat chance. I know you better than that." He tightened his hold on her, earning a blush from his best friend. "You're not going anywhere. Go back to sleep."_

_The Builder wanted to protest, but Lulu took that opportunity to let herself in. They heard her moving about in the kitchen, presumably setting something heavy down on one of the counters. Malroth got up to go see what she was up to, taking his wondrous warmth with him, and started to leave the room to go greet her when he paused in the doorway, glancing back at his blonde best friend._

_"Stay put. If you try to sneak out, you know what'll happen. Don't test me."_

_Begrudgingly, she obeyed and got back under the covers._

* * *

After a week of lying in bed, eating stew, and resting, the Builder finally came out of her illness. She managed to get herself out of bed and into the bathroom without issue, feeling victorious that she'd finally beaten the fever and chills that plagued her. She took her time cleaning up and felt as good as new once her hair had been washed. As she was towel-drying her long locks, she heard a tell-tale sneeze coming from the bedroom.

_Uh oh._

Sure enough, when she went to check on him, Malroth looked pale and miserable, sniffling every few minutes. He shivered underneath the blankets and cracked his eyes open, the sunlight hurting his eyes.

"I feel horrible," he moaned. "What _is_ this?"

The Builder bit back a chuckle as she moved to draw the curtains. Figures that when she was all set to get back to building, Malroth would get sick.

"You must've caught the flu from me," the Builder explained, moving to sit beside him. She held the inside of her wrist to his forehead and nodded. "Yup. Looks like you're gonna be staying in bed for the next few days."

"Ugh..." He closed his eyes again in defeat, sniffling loudly. "This _sucks_."

"Now you know my pain." The Builder still wanted to go outside and finish up building, but since getting sick, she figured maybe taking a little bit of a break _wasn't_ the worst thing in the world, especially not when her best friend needed her right now. She toed off her boots and placed her gloves on the nightstand before crawling under the covers beside Malroth. She wrapped herself around him like he'd done for her and in return, he shivered and snaked his arms around her, holding her body tightly to his to savor her warmth despite the fact that he was burning up.

"I'm freezing," he murmured. "How did you deal with this?"

"It helped that you were with me." She ran her fingers through his hair, an action that helped him relax. "And don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here until you're feeling better."

It was noon when Lulu arrived to check on her two friends and see how the Builder was doing. She was surprised to find the Builder with much more color to her and a sickly-looking Malroth clinging to the blonde. They were both fast asleep, the Builder propped up against the headboard while Malroth used her stomach as a pillow, his arm loosely wrapped around her midsection. Despite the fact that Malroth was now sick, to see her two friends cuddling... Lulu had to admit, they looked cute like this.

_Figures that idiot would get himself sick, too,_ the pinkette thought, placing her hands on her hips. A smile tugged at her mouth as she shook her head. _Guess I'll be asking Gerome to make more of that stew._


	5. The Ultimate Form of Creation

**Credit for this oneshot goes to Ciaxlia and edb5678. You guys wanted to see a fic where Malroth and the Builder have a little one, and at first I wasn't sure I could do it, but I did the best I could!**

**I hope y'all like fluff cuz there's a lot of it ahead.**

* * *

_In which Malroth and the Builder create a life._

**The Ultimate Form of Creation**

Malroth was known for being the master of destruction. He destroyed everything just by touching it; he'd watched countless materials crumble in his hands and he'd had quite a few attempted creations literally blow up in his face. Even after becoming separate from the true god of destruction, and even after successfully (finally) making a medicinal herb for the Builder back in Malhalla, he still wasn't at her level of expertise. He could make basic things like torches, but even then, they weren't great quality, and so he decided to stick to destruction since that was what he was good at.

The Builder was the vessel of creation. No matter what she made or did, hope and happiness bloomed in her wake. Whereas Malroth inspired fear, the Builder inspired courage. Malroth was her opposite in every single way, even down to looks, and while she worked to build, he enjoyed destroying whatever tried to get in her way. During the course of their adventures, they became acquaintances, then best friends, and eventually... They fell deeply in love with each other.

Even after their marriage, a huge event that Lulu insisted on overseeing every little detail to, Malroth still mostly relied on the Builder to make things. He helped her whenever he could (there was no way in hell he'd let her build _their_ house all by herself), marveling at his wife's ability to create anything and everything from practically nothing.

They were happy for a time, but a few months after their wedding, the Builder began to act strangely. She found herself exhausted more often and became rather emotional—one moment she'd be fine, the next, she'd snap at her husband only to fling her sobbing self into his arms minutes later, apologizing up and down. Malroth was beginning to wonder what was going on with her; the Builder never ate large amounts of food, yet suddenly, she was inhaling two whole platefuls of food every night. She was constantly peckish, and this constant hunger almost always transformed into her complaining about her weight (which was crazy in his eyes; she was always a thin little thing, where was all this "fat" she claimed to have?). She seemed to be bursting with all kinds of emotions. The Builder usually got a little cranky when it was "that time of the month," but lately, "that time" seemed to be almost every day. He didn't know what to make of it.

When she wasn't constantly hungry, she was curled up in bed, groaning and clutching her belly. Nausea plagued her at least once every week, sometimes even resulting in vomiting, and Malroth began to wonder if she'd caught a bug or if a monster had cursed her. Plus... He'd never admit this to anyone aloud, but because of his heightened senses, he'd started noticing a change in his wife's natural scent. It wasn't a good or bad change, but it was enough of a change that it grabbed his attention.

What was going on with her?

One day, after a few weeks of letting her insist she was fine, Malroth had had enough. The constant barrage of her back-and-forth had him at his wit's end.

* * *

_"I'm starving! Can you please grab me a few of the leftover dinner rolls we brought back from Lillian's?"_

_He brought the basket to her. She scowled at it. "Wait, never mind, I've already eaten so much... I'm getting fat, aren't I?"_

_"No, you're not."_

_"Yes, I am! You think I'm huge, don't you?"_

_"No, I don't."_

_"Yes, you do!"_

_He sighed. "I don't think that at all, and if you changed your mind, I'll bring these back to the kitchen."_

_Malroth turned on his heel to do just that when she stopped him. "On second thought... Maybe just one more, I'm really hungry today."_

_She'd barely even brushed her fingers against the rolls when her face turned white. "Ugh... Okay, no, I feel like I'm gonna be sick."_

* * *

Something was obviously wrong with her, but Malroth figured it was nothing a medicinal herb couldn't fix. He decided to make it himself, and besides, he'd been able to make one before; he should be able to do it again. The events of Malhalla still seemed like they'd happened yesterday, so he made for the Builder's workbench. He managed to successfully craft one after several failed attempts and returned to their house, where the Builder was sitting on the front porch. Her strange new scent wrapped around Malroth and he brushed it off, instead focusing on the mission at hand.

"Hey," he called, instantly grabbing her attention. Her face lit up as soon as she saw him, and Malroth wondered how it was that even after all this time, that smile made him feel all sorts of fuzzy inside.

"Hey you," she greeted. "Perfect timing. I need to tell you something."

"Before you do, here." He pushed the medicinal herb into her hands. "This should help whatever's been making you feel sick. I know it's not much, but it should help. I made it myself."

The Builder examined the herb briefly before placing it aside. Malroth went to protest when she took his hands into hers.

"That's not the only thing you made," she giggled, and she placed his hands over her stomach. The master of destruction was about to ask what she meant when he felt it: her belly was solid and slightly swollen, like she'd swallowed a balloon. It wasn't soft, so it wasn't fat, and a solid belly meant...

Malroth had stared at her in disbelief, his brain refusing to work for a few seconds. He was _shocked_. He knew about the birds and the bees, he knew about parenthood despite not having parents himself, but he didn't think he'd ever be capable of something like this. He couldn't create furniture much less a _person_. He'd actually helped in creating one of the biggest things a person could ever create—a life.

"Builder, what... How... You mean you're—"

"Yes. We're having a baby!"

He'd lifted her up, spun her around, and peppered her face with kisses. Once they'd broken the news to the others, everyone began working on making furniture, toys, and clothes for the baby's arrival. Digby and Dougie proclaimed themselves to be the coolest uncles the little one would ever have; Lulu announced she was to be the child's godmother by default while Bonanzo insisted he would be the godfather. Everyone, monsters included, were positively thrilled to hear that their favorite builder and destructive fighter were going to be parents.

Over the course of the past nine months, the Builder's belly had grown and expanded to the point where Malroth was sure if it grew any bigger, it would pop. And apparently, earlier that evening, the Builder _had_ popped, hence the reason he was currently pacing outside the small building that contained his screaming wife and an array of women who were fussing over her. The entire Isle of Awakening seemed to be holding their breath alongside him, hoping and praying that no complications arose for either the mother-to-be or her newborn child.

Malroth had wanted to stay with the Builder. He'd held her hand during the first hour of labor, her grip enough to nearly crush his fingers, but once she'd started crying and screaming, Babs comforting her and patting her face with a cold washcloth while Rosie and Anessa instructed her to start pushing, he began freaking out. He wasn't sure how to help his wife; all he knew was that he wanted to ease her pain however he could. Molly eventually had to usher him out into the cool night air and explain that the Builder was in good hands, to leave everything to them. This was a woman thing; they would ensure everything went smoothly.

That had been three hours ago. The Builder had been in labor for almost four hours now and he was getting impatient; what was taking so long? Was she alright? Was the baby alright? Were they having a boy or girl? Malroth continued pacing and gnawing at his fingernail as he anxiously awaited news of his wife's well-being.

Suddenly, the Builder's agonized screaming stopped and Malroth heard a new sound pierce the night. It started off as a small cry, then grew to a loud wail. The destructive man nearly jumped when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

"Congratulations, my boy," Bonanzo chuckled. "You're officially a father."

Dougie, Digby, Jeremiah, Gerome, Haydin, and Perry all congratulated him as well, but he felt numb. Was he... Was he really a _father_? He didn't _feel_ like a father; was he supposed to feel the same as he always did? He wasn't sure how to react. That wailing... That was his child? Was he really someone's _dad_? His brain felt like it'd short-circuited.

Molly eased herself out of the building after a few minutes and as the door opened and closed, Malroth could hear the wailing dying down to a hushed gurgle. His eyebrows knitted together with worry as he jogged up to the older woman.

"What's going on? Is she okay? How is she, how's the baby?" He had plenty more questions, but Molly held up a hand to silence them, a bright smile on her face.

"They're fine, dearie, both mother and child. Come with me—there's someone very special who's waiting to meet you."

When Malroth stepped inside, he could hardly see his wife past the crowd of women around her. They were all cooing and gushing over something, and as they began to clear out at Lulu's insistence, Malroth was finally able to see the Builder propped up against the headboard. She looked like she'd been through hell, her sweaty, damp hair mussed about. She was pale and looked a little weak, but... When she looked up and saw her husband standing at the foot of her bed, her expression was pure happiness and love. She looked happier than she had in months, and in her arms was a squirming white bundle.

"Hey you." The Builder's voice was slightly hoarse from all the crying and screaming she'd done. Malroth had so many questions he wanted to ask, but his mind seemed to be blank in that moment.

"Hey." He glanced at the bundle in her arms, but right now, he needed to know how his wife fared. "How are you doing?"

"Much better than earlier," she joked, smiling warmly. "Pretty sore and exhausted, but she was worth it."

Malroth nodded, relieved and satisfied to hear that the Builder was fine, but then it hit him. "Wait... Did you say _'she'?_"

"Yes. Come meet our little girl."

_A_ _daughter_. Malroth was the father of a baby girl.

He moved closer and sat next to his wife so he could better see the baby. She was tiny, but she was a lovely combination of her parents: she had her father's pointy ears, tan complexion, and dark hair, but she had her mother's cute button nose and bright blue eyes. He watched as she alternated between staring up at him and her mother, still squirming and fidgeting in her mother's arms as little noises escaped her.

"She's... She's _beautiful_," he whispered, and she truly was. Malroth thought she was _perfect_; he didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful baby in all his life. It was still strange to think that he'd helped create such a lovely, adorable being.

"She takes after you." The Builder leaned down to playfully nuzzle her nose against her daughter's, earning the tiniest, most heartwarming giggle Malroth had ever heard. "Yes, you look a lot like your daddy, don't you? My beautiful girl~."

"She's so small." He wrapped an arm around the Builder's shoulders, relieved that she no longer seemed to be in the pain she'd been suffering for the past four hours... And relieved that he finally got to meet the little one who'd been growing in her belly all this time. "Is she healthy?"

"As healthy as can be," the Builder assured. She smiled proudly at her little girl before returning her gaze to his. "Do you want to hold her?"

It was a simple question, but it still struck fear within his heart. How many times had he attempted to merely pick up crafting materials only for them to crumble beneath his hands? What if when he tried to hold his daughter, the same thing would happen? What if she literally fell apart? How could he ever forgive himself if he accidentally destroyed his own child?

"I... I don't think that's a good idea." At his words, the Builder's head whipped towards him with an incredulous, almost hurt expression, and Malroth quickly amended, "Don't you remember what happened all those times I tried my hand at the workbench? What if... What if when I hold her, she..."

The blonde woman blinked before chuckling. "Malroth, this is much different. You've held my hand and done much more than that; did _I_ ever explode?"

He shifted uneasily. "Well, no, but.."

"Mal." Love twinkled in her eyes. "Hold her. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

The Builder held the babe out to him and his eyes met hers in uncertainty. "H-how do I...?"

"Here, like this." Malroth shifted closer and the Builder showed him how to hold the cooing child so that her neck was properly supported. When she was safely in his arms, Malroth stared down at the little girl in wonder. She looked up at her father curiously, her eyes wide and innocent. He was amazed at her—she was only minutes old and she was already so curious about the world around her. She definitely took after her mother in that respect; he had a feeling he'd have his hands full trying to keep her from getting into all sorts of trouble when she was able to walk and talk.

A fierce love bloomed in his chest as he held his daughter, one of the most wondrous things he and the Builder had ever created. The baby gurgled and lifted an arm up, reaching towards his face, and he offered her his hand. Her little fingers curled around his thumb and she smiled, holding onto him, and his heart melted even more. In that moment, he knew he'd do anything to protect her, just like he'd do anything to protect her mother. He would make sure she had everything she needed, he would protect that little smile at all costs and make sure she was happy. He was wrapped around her little finger and he was already so proud of her.

"She likes you," the Builder whispered, her own heart overflowing with love for her husband and daughter. "She loves her daddy."

The little girl looked at her mother and cooed, another one of those heart-melting smiles appearing on her delicate features.

"She loves you too, you know," Malroth said, pressing his lips to his wife's temple. He'd never been one to cry, but in that moment, his eyes were watery. "I can't get over how perfect she is. Is she really ours?"

"I would know, I spent enough time bringing her here," the blonde joked, earning a chuckle from her husband. "She _is _perfect. She's perfect and she's ours."

Malroth was known as the master of destruction, a title that he lived up to. He was known for causing destruction, not creation. Yet that night, as he and his Builder cradled their newborn baby, he had to admit that even he, destructive tendencies and all, had managed to create something beautiful and extraordinary.


	6. Khrumbul-Dun Kiss

**Credit for this idea goes to Mike AZ 2. I'm getting to the other requests by the way, still working on writing them!**

****I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up that I'm currently working and in grad school, so if I go silent for a while, that doesn't mean I've abandoned my story/stories, it just means I'm buried in assignments. That said, during my free time, I will still try to work on these as much as I can, so keep sending requests if you have any! And don't be shy, if you like what I'm writing, please let me know! I enjoy seeing what you guys think of my works; it motivates me to write that much faster! ;P**

**Thank you for the faves and follows! I hope you guys enjoy! :D I love writing these two and I'm honored to bring your ideas to life!**

* * *

_The Silver Bar gets completed and the Builder gets a little carried away._

**Khrumbul-Dun Kiss**

She placed the last light box in its place, finally completing the blueprint.

"It's done," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Water spurted forth from the fountains below and Babs' sign looked positively gorgeous. The others, having heard her place the last item on the blueprint, rushed over to admire her work. Everyone was astounded at how beautiful the silver bar looked; the braziers offered a dazzling twinkle to the silver bricks of the pool. As soon as Malroth was able to climb up the ladders, they shared their usual victorious high-five, applause echoing from below the stage.

With the silver bar finished, Goldirox having been turned back into a golden golem, monsters beaten back, and the small town of Khrumbul-Dun as lively as ever with a done-up dormitory, showers, a proper smithy, and now two gorgeous bars, a celebration was due.

* * *

The music was loud but the cheers, clapping, and merriment of the people watching Babs perform the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba was louder. She was truly a gorgeous young woman and her spunky spirit shone like a star; the Builder could see why the miners went bonkers over trying to win the girl's affections.

While Babs performed alongside two other dancers, the rest of the town's population eating and drinking their fill after working hard in the mines for days on-end, the Builder decided to stroll around. It felt strange to have a moment to herself, to not have to rush off and build stuff or complete tasks. After speaking with a starstruck Goldirox, Digby, Dougie, and Den, the Builder spotted a familiar spiky ponytail heading towards the copper bar. She took off after him.

"Hey, Malroth!"

He turned around immediately. "Hm?"

"Tonight's the big party! Don't you want to celebrate?" The Builder couldn't help the wide grin that she'd been wearing all evening. Truth be told, she'd been grinning like a fool ever since finishing up the silver bar; her face was actually beginning to hurt from smiling so much.

"I already had a digger's jigger," he replied, offering a small smile of his own—her dopey grin _was_ contagious, after all. "I'd have a few more, but I'd rather stay alert in case any monsters try to crash our gig."

The blonde could understand that. "Well, at least come sit with me? We can still enjoy the music and Babs worked so hard on getting that dance perfect."

He glanced at the copper bar, which had been empty, before nodding. "Alright."

She took his hand and led him towards where Goldirox had previously been standing, as the golem had, in fact, moved closer so he could join in with Babs's other admirers in cheering for her performance. The two best friends sat down side-by-side, both politely declining Ordelia and one of the other bunny girls when they asked if they'd like to order something from the bar, and focused their attention on the stage.

At least, that's what the Builder did, anyway. Malroth's gaze came to rest on his best friend.

While the Builder watched Babs's performance with a happiness Malroth was glad to see, he couldn't help but watch _her_. Babs was a beautiful woman, no doubt—anyone with eyes could recognize that—but the Builder held a captivating beauty of her own. He'd seen her at her worst, best, and everything in between, yet in the glow of the golden braziers, the stars twinkling above her as she gazed at the supposed most-beautiful woman in all of Khrumbul-Dun, Malroth couldn't help but think the Builder was beautiful, too. Her shiny blonde hair, captivating blue eyes, adorable nose, and pretty pink lips... Yes, she was beautiful in her own right. It was moments like these when he realized just how happy he was to have met someone like her, someone so selfless, kind, patient, nurturing; someone so _beautiful_, inside and out.

The Builder, on the other hand, was not quite watching Babs but instead admiring her craftsmanship. She _still_ couldn't believe she'd managed to finish it.

"It doesn't seem like I built this thing," the Builder commented, her eyes raking over every inch of the silver bar. "I mean, when I sketched out the blueprint, even _I_ thought I was aiming a bit high, but this... This is _incredible_. I can't believe it's done."

"Well, believe it." Malroth chuckled, snapping out of his earlier thoughts once she'd turned to him. "I watched you build the whole thing block by block. I think I speak for everyone when I say you did a pretty great job."

The Builder's cheeks grew pink at the compliment. "Thanks!"

The more she looked at her creation, the more it hit her that she'd _actually_ _finished_ this blueprint. It hadn't seemed real but now, as the glittery silver, spouting fountains, light boxes, and the cheerful audience stood before her, she realized the silver bar was done. _Really_ done. She'd made this incredible, superb structure with her bare hands, right down to the silver ingots required to make the tiles.

"Oh my goddess," she whispered. "It's done, it's really _done._ I can't believe I did it!"

Before Malroth could ask if she'd finally cracked, she got to her feet and pulled him up with her. As she laughed and danced around, he couldn't help but join in. They spun around, dancing and jumping and swinging their arms together. At one point, without thinking, the Builder cupped Malroth's face and kissed him square on the mouth, only pulling away to continue prancing around like an idiot. Malroth was frozen with shock from the action, yet when he was finally able to move again, he reached up to touch his lips.

"Builder?"

The Builder was so lost in her own mini victory dance that she didn't realize she'd kissed him. "Yeah?"

"You just..." He motioned to his mouth. "Did you just _kiss_ me?"

Realization dawned on her and her face went pink. "Oh, um... Yeah, I guess I did. S-sorry about that."

"It's fine." Malroth's fingers hovered over his lips for a few heartbeats, his mouth turning up into a shy, boyish grin that did funny things to the Builder's stomach. "Can you kiss me again?"

The Builder giggled and leaned in again, her soft lips claiming his in a kiss that burned hotter than the Khrumbul-Dun sun. As the rest of the townsfolk partied late into the night, Malroth and the Builder continued trading kisses here and there, their hands intertwined as they continued to watch Babs dance her heart out.


	7. Friends

**A modern AU that nobody asked for but I decided to write anyway :P This one was already written and was sitting on my drive for forever. I'm happy to finally have finished it!**

* * *

_Hargon said he'd consider their words if they defeated the master of destruction. Thousands of years into the future, he gets a chance to do so._

**Friends**

_Malroth swung his club extra hard, mortally wounding the High Priest. Hargon let out a pained cry and hunched over, pain radiating throughout his body. He was going to die, and for good this time; there weren't enough medicinal herbs in the world to cure this kind of mortal wound._

_"Making friends? Building for fun?" he scoffed. "The thought alone makes me want to retch..."_

_Malroth and the Builder remained on-guard, watching silently as Hargon's last bit of strength dwindled. It wouldn't be long now until the High Priest would be gone, and then they'd have to take down the ultimate god of destruction._

_"However..." __The destructive young man cast a curious glance back at his best friend, who shrugged, unsure as to what their enemy was about to say next._

_"__If... and only if... you can destroy the Master of Destruction... I will... consider... what you have said..."_

_..._

_..._

"Oi, Builder."

She'd been having the strangest dreams lately. She couldn't exactly remember any of them but she knew they certainly weren't like any other dreams she'd ever had. These ones filled her with dread and made her feel a longing, like she'd forgotten something important. But what?

"Builder."

"_Mmh_... Five more minutes..."

"You don't have five more minutes, you're late. C'mon, you gotta get up."

The blonde groaned. Part of her wanted to fall back asleep in hopes of that dream continuing so she could remember what it was about, and part of her was also feeling lazy. Mornings used to be her strong suit, but now, at nineteen, she loved getting to sleep in.

A firm hand shook her again, more insistent this time. "If you don't get up, Professor Shane's gonna lock you out and count this as an absence. You know he's got it out for you. He'll use any excuse he can to make your life more miserable so don't give him one."

The young woman in question yawned, cracking open her eyes. Malroth, her best friend since middle school, was standing at her bedside, arms folded across his chest. His hair was tied back in its signature ponytail and he was wearing his favorite outfit: a bone necklace that he'd gotten at some old antique shop, a purple muscle shirt, a pair of orange joggers, and red and gray sneakers. He already had his backpack on; he was ready for class unlike the sleepy girl before him.

"Alright, alright, I'm up..." she muttered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's seven forty-five."

That woke her up. "_What?_"

Malroth gave her a knowing look, hands on his hips. "I told you, we're gonna be late."

The blonde scrambled out of bed, almost tripping over her own sheets in the process. She hurried towards the bathroom and rushed to get cleaned up for the day, mentally kicking herself for sleeping through her alarm again. Lulu would surely be waiting to give her an earful if she didn't make it to class on time. The pinkette hated having to suffer through World History by herself, or worse, alone with _Malroth_. All three of them were best friends, but Lulu and Malroth bickered like siblings, with Builder often playing the role of mediator.

At least Malroth had woken her up today. That would spare her a lecture, at least from Lulu, anyway. Goddess knew how many times Lulu had stomped up here to give her an earful for sleeping in late.

After tugging a comb through her unruly locks, the blonde tossed her hair up into pigtails and rushed back out into her bedroom to grab a pair of leggings, a red and white tunic top, boots, and her favorite yellow scarf. Malroth was sitting on her bed, scrolling through his phone, and she went back into the bathroom to change. Once she was finally ready for the day, she grabbed her backpack and hoisted it onto her shoulders. She made sure everything in her apartment was turned off before waving to Malroth.

"You coming?"

"Yup." He turned his phone off and they set off towards Awakening Community College. The campus wasn't exactly far; it was relatively close, which often meant Builder allowed herself to hit the snooze button on her alarm. Which lead to mornings like these, when she was running late and Malroth or Lulu had to come wake her up, lest she miss classes.

Everyone nicknamed her "Builder" due to her creative exploits in the art department. She was talented in everything she did, whether it was printmaking, painting, welding, sketching, woodwork... She was a bona fide artist through and through. Malroth, on the other hand, wasn't good at art. He wasn't a writer, certainly couldn't make anything, and he wasn't good at cooking, having nearly burned down Builder's apartment the last time he'd tried to surprise her with a home-cooked birthday dinner. He was, however, unmatched in sports: everyone wanted him on their team. He'd won quite a few trophies in high school and now, in college, he was already on his way to earning more.

As they hurried towards ACC, they both couldn't help but appreciate the sights around them. New Cantlin City was definitely a great place to live; it was where monsters and humans lived together in harmony. The streets were filled with regular humans and creatures of varying shapes and sizes, and the best part was that no one batted an eye at each other. It wasn't perfect, of course—there were still some tensions between monsterkind and humanity—but for the most part, everyone was rather tolerant.

Malroth and Builder made it to class with only a minute to spare. Just as they'd expected, Lulu was sitting at her usual spot, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the desk impatiently. She raised an eyebrow at Builder, who grinned sheepishly.

"Honestly, Builder, you need to start going to bed earlier," the pinkette admonished.

"I was going to, but then I got this great new idea for my Drawing II midterm," Builder explained. "It's gonna be so cool, I already sketched it out and worked out all the details of—"

"Sorry I'm late, man. I, like, got stuck in traffic. Wasn't part of the plan, man." Professor Shane strode into the room, a thermos of coffee in one hand with a briefcase in the other. As he set his things down on the desk and logged onto the computer to take attendance, his single yellow eye sweeping over the room. When he saw Builder was in her seat, on time and right where she should be for once, the shaman snorted. "Finally made it to class on time, eh? That's good, man. Keep it up and I won't have to dock your attendance grade, man."

Builder held back a groan. Sometimes it was better to not react. Malroth, on the other hand, grit his teeth together at their professor's rudeness. He wanted nothing more than to tell his professor to take that attendance grade and shove it where the sun didn't shine, but that wouldn't do anything except get him thrown out of class (not like it would be the first time, but still). Builder must have sensed her friend's ire because she flashed him a reassuring smile; some folks were just jerks.

As the day went on and the trio of friends eventually separated to go to their respective classes, Builder's day improved immensely. She hurried to her Drawing II class, eager to get started on her latest idea for the upcoming midterm. When she entered the room, she set up her work station and played on her phone while waiting for the professor to show up; she'd need his approval to go ahead, anyway. The other students chatted quietly among themselves, everyone sitting at their usual tables.

Builder happened to look up just as a tall, thin student shuffled into the room; he was a monster with blueish skin, webbed ears, massive teeth, and half-lidded, yellowed eyes. He would have looked menacing if not for the shy, kicked-puppy expression on his face. He scurried to a table towards the back of the room and seemed to avoid making eye contact with anyone. For some reason, he looked incredibly familiar to Builder, who couldn't take her eyes off of him. She couldn't place where she'd seen him, or _if_ she'd seen him, for that matter, but she definitely recognized him from someplace.

"Good morning, class."

The soothing masculine voice that boomed throughout the room grabbed Builder's attention, forcing her to look away from the obviously-new student. Everyone returned the greeting in unison, earning a smile from the gentle soul currently placing his books down on his desk. All of the students had respect for Pastor Al, a local religious authority who was passionate about gardening and the arts. He was renowned for his calm, gentle demeanor and he encouraged all of his students to be the best they could be. Builder herself could attest that if he hadn't pushed her to think outside the box sometimes, she wouldn't have become the great artist she was today. Her friend Rosie had even become a successful horticulturalist thanks to the pastor's guidance and encouragement.

The class proceeded as it normally did for a good twenty minutes or so. Pastor Al wasn't the best artist in the world, but he was certainly a great teacher all the same, patient and kind when helping his students figure out how to improve their pieces. Once he finished filling everyone in on what the next project would be, the class then broke off into their own mini-groups and set to work on the drawing assignment for the day.

Builder grabbed her sketchbook and walked up to her professor. "Hey, Pastor Al! Could you approve this for me?"

"Certainly, Builder." A proud gleam entered the magus's eye. "On top of things as always, I see. Let's have a look at what you've got, hm?"

She opened the book to her latest sketch, explaining her vision as best as she could manage. When she was finished speaking, Pastor Al nodded.

"You may go ahead with it. I look forward to seeing the finished product."

Builder thanked him and hurried back to her spot. She began going through her backpack for her iPod and headphones, already trying to figure out how to start the drawing she had in mind when she heard the magus make his way towards the new student.

"Ah, you must be Hargon," he greeted. "Welcome. I am Professor Alakazam, better known by my title as Pastor Al; I'll explain what project we're working on in just a moment."

_Hargon?_ Builder's eyebrows knit together in confusion. _Where have I heard that name before? Why does that sound so... familiar?_

After Pastor Al helped one of the other students figure out why their piece looked out of proportion, the monster made his way towards Hargon. As soon as the pastor finished giving him a run-down of the class expectations and handed him a syllabus, the blue monster opened his sketchbook to a fresh page and quietly set to work. Builder spared a few curious glances in Hargon's direction but mostly kept her focus on the project before her. When she'd finished sketching out a rough outline, she stepped back to get a different perspective of her drawing when she noticed that everyone appeared to be giving the blue monster a wide berth, as if he were a virus. He didn't _look_ mean... So why was everyone avoiding him? She didn't sense anything off about him. Maybe he was just a little eccentric...?

Builder frowned at that. Eccentric or not, no one deserved to be all alone. If he turned out to be not-so-nice, she'd deal with it, and she knew Malroth would have her back either way. She glanced at her iPod and headphones before stuffing them back into her backpack, her decision clear. She quietly stood up and approached the monster's table. Hargon seemed so into his drawing that he didn't notice her admiring his work, so when he lifted his eyes to grab a few other charcoal pencils, he nearly jumped at the sight of the bubbly blonde.

"Excuse me," her voice was sweet and warm. "I really like what you're drawing. How long have you been an artist?"

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "Um... I-I've been drawing since I was ten."

"Really? No wonder your style looks so good! I love the way those flowers look, you blended their colors very well."

He eyed her warily as if she might attack him at any moment. "...Thank you."

Builder decided it was safe enough to sit down. He seemed to be more afraid of her than she was of him anyway. "So, did you just move here? I don't think I've seen you around."

Hargon seemed to sit a little straighter at that. "Oh yes, I was just accepted into Awakening Community College."

"Cool! How do you like it so far?"

Just like that, he wilted slightly. "It, um... it's actually my first day here."

Realization dawned on her. How stupid could she be? Of course he looked like a kicked puppy—he didn't know anyone here and he was probably nervous. "This must be your first class of the day, huh?"

He nodded.

"Well!" She grinned and, to her relief, Hargon cracked a small smile as well. "I've been going here since last year and it's a really lovely place. I think you'll enjoy your time here once you get used to where everything is."

Neither of them said anything for a few awkward beats. Hargon shifted in his seat, unsure of what to do or say, and Builder wondered if she was making him uncomfortable. After mulling it over, the blonde finally grinned, holding a hand out. "Well, it's been a pleasure speaking with you! Everyone here calls me Builder so you're more than welcome to call me that as well. I usually sit a few tables closer to the front so if you'd ever like to chat or geek out over art, feel free to come bug me."

The monster hesitantly shook her hand, and when he saw that she truly meant him no harm, he perked up. "My name is Hargon. It's nice to meet you."

"My word, Hellen! Are you alright?"

The entire class turned at Pastor Al's exclamation. Sure enough, the wrecktor in charge of Cooking 101 stood in the doorway covered head-to-toe in a thin layer of ash. Standing next to her was a familiar spiky-haired young man with a thunderous expression on his face; he, too, sported ash on his clothing.

"I am fine, Pastor," she assured. She placed her hands on Malroth's shoulders and gave him a light push, and he stepped fully into the classroom. "Please do me a favor and allow this hooligan to sit in here while we get things cleaned up. He is not in trouble, but I don't think my nerves could handle another accident."

The flustered professor rushed off before Pastor Al could say anything. After the class's attention returned to their individual projects and Pastor Al instructed him to have a seat wherever he saw fit, Malroth strode over to Builder and Hargon.

"Yo." Malroth gave a mock-salute as he grabbed a chair for himself.

"Blew up the cooking room again, did you?" Builder teased. "What were you guys making?"

"Believe it or not..." Malroth's cheeks and ears turned pink with embarrassment. "Hellen was trying to teach us how to make grilled cheese."

"And you blew up the kitchen."

"Hey!" Malroth put her in a playful headlock and gave her a noogie. The blonde laughed and easily got out of his grip to fix her hair. "It's not my fault the pan happened to catch on fire."

"Yeah, sure. How much butter did you use?"

"I dunno. The whole stick?"

Builder face-palmed. "Malroth, oh my god."

"I don't know! Why do you think I'm taking that stupid class?" he grumbled. When he finally realized Hargon was sitting there watching the two warily and curiously, he offered a rather intimidating grin. "Hey, didn't see you there. What's up?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I almost forgot," Builder clucked her tongue. "Malroth, this is Hargon, a fellow artist and a new student here at ACC; Hargon, this is my best friend, Malroth."

Malroth shook the monster's hand before giving him a once-over. Hargon wasn't sure how to interpret the action; Builder's supposed best friend looked like he could be quite the bully if he wanted to be. He was a rather tall fellow with toned, rippling muscles underneath his muscle shirt. Normally, Hargon would have felt fear at the sight of muscles—that usually meant the owner of said muscles could dole out some serious damage if they wished; he knew from past experience—but he was more focused on the name.

"Mal-roth?" Hargon squinted at the tough young man. "That name sounds awfully familiar... Have we met before?"

Malroth grinned. "You may have heard of me. I'm pretty awesome."

Builder playfully smacked his arm. "Mal is captain of the wrestling team, plus he's dabbled in all the other sports teams on campus. One of his trophies is on display in the physical education building. He's known for being a pretty tough cookie, but he's a big softie once you get to know him."

"I am not."

The blonde grinned at him. "Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too~!"

"I'll show you who's a softie, c'mere!"

Malroth lunged for her and she squealed, leaping out of his reach. As he continued trying to reach out and pinch her, Hargon watched them with a mix of amusement and confusion. Something felt familiar about these two, like he'd known them for a long time. The dopey smile, bright blue eyes, even her stylish neck scarf... He knew he'd seen Builder before, but where? And Malroth, with his intimidating appearance and strange name... Something about him was so familiar that Hargon felt like he'd forgotten something important. _But what could it be...?_

"Anyway," Builder playfully shoved at Malroth and he chuckled. "Mal and I have been attending Awakening Community College since last year. If you ever need help finding a building, just let us know. We're more than happy to help and if you'd like, you can hang out with us anytime."

Now _that_ was new. Hargon couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever willingly offered to hang out with him. He could vaguely remember his mother asking other kids to let him tag along with them when he was much younger, which was humiliating and definitely a low he never wanted to experience again. People, both human and monster alike, didn't like him. They often gave him the cold shoulder without giving him a fair chance. He'd spent the majority of his life watching everyone around him laugh and play and make friends with ease while he got to sit by himself. No matter what he did, said, or how he acted, no one wanted to be around him or talk to him. Sometimes he wondered if it was because he was ugly, or if he had an annoying laugh, or if he was just truly unpleasant company; whatever the case, all he knew was that it wasn't fun being alone all the time without any friends. He was used to it, but he didn't like it, and he had expected college to be no different.

"You really want to hang out... with _me_?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't we?" Malroth grinned, Builder mirroring her friend's sunny expression.

Hargon was used to people hating him and treating him like someone underfoot. The fact that Malroth and Builder were treating him like an actual person was astounding to the blue monster.

"I... I don't know what to say," he admitted. Builder, however, waved off his awkwardness and retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. She opened up an app and handed the device to him.

"Here, let's exchange numbers. That way if we don't share too many classes, we can still keep in touch."

"B-but I don't understand," he sputtered, reluctantly accepting her phone. Builder's smile dimmed some at the sadness that leaked from his voice. "Why would you want to be friends with _me_?"

"Well... Why not?"

Hargon wasn't sure how to respond to that, but after a moment, he decided to be honest. "I... I don't have any friends. No one's ever wanted to hang out with me before."

"Seriously?" Builder frowned. How long had this poor guy been alone?

After the monster nodded sadly, she offered a determined nod. "Well, you know what? I'll be your friend!"

"Really?" When she nodded again, Hargon's eyes welled up with tears. He fought to keep them at bay as he typed his number into her phone. "Th-thank you. I'd be honored to be your friend."

"Don't forget me." Malroth grinned and handed his phone towards the monster as well. "Any friend of Builder's is a friend of mine."

Suddenly, the tough young man's grin didn't seem so intimidating; he actually looked somewhat friendly. Once Builder and Malroth had given him their numbers as well, they both left to get to their other classes. They said their goodbyes, leaving Hargon with a hopeful feeling that maybe, for once in his lonely life, things would change for the better.

* * *

"Morning, Hargon!"

The next time he had Drawing II, Hargon looked up to see Builder approaching his table with her signature dopey smile. She held her sketchbook under one arm while her hands were full of different supplies. She appeared to be struggling to keep everything from falling.

It had been a few days since he'd exchanged numbers with both Malroth and Builder, and so far, the pair of best friends had been texting him memes at least twice a day. When Hargon went to text something back, they'd actually respond instead of ignoring him; he felt like he was floating on air.

"Good morning, Builder," he greeted, still a little shocked that he now had _two_ friends, let alone one. "Would you like some help carrying all that?"

"Nope, I've got it!" She placed all her belongings on the table and began to set up her work station. "Thank you, though. What are you working on today?"

"O-oh, uh... just a still life." Hargon held up his sketchbook and she whistled.

"That looks great! How did you get the vase to look like that? I can never seem to get the top symmetrical when I try to draw them."

He seemed to relax at that. "That's easy. Allow me to show you."

They spent the entirety of class exchanging tips on how to draw various things and how to improve their skills. By the time the period ended, Hargon felt much more comfortable around Builder. As they both packed up their things to leave, Malroth entered the room and slung an arm around the blonde. He offered Hargon a friendly grin, to which the monster smiled shyly in return.

"Builder, Hargon; it's good to see you. I was just about to head out and get some food. You guys wanna tag along?"

"That sounds good to me, I'm starving," Builder agreed. She knew she shouldn't skip class, but what was the harm in one day? "Where we going?"

"Lillian's Diner. Hargon, you coming?"

The monster perked up at his name. They... They were actually inviting him out?

Part of him wondered if they were simply being nice only to lure him out, then make a fool of him. Yet the hopeful part of him, the damned part that still desperately wanted friends and had gotten his heart broken multiple times before, decided that perhaps giving these two a chance wasn't a bad idea. Builder radiated kindness and Malroth, while not as sunshine-y as his friend, didn't appear to be a malicious person.

"Y-yes," Hargon said, clearing his throat. "I'd love to accompany you, if... If it's alright."

Malroth chuckled. "Of course it is. Come on, you nerds, let's go get us some pizza!"

* * *

Lillian's was packed with students from ACC. Various delicious scents wafted from the busy kitchen and the building was filled with the hum of chatter, dinnerware clanking, and low jazz music. Hargon followed meekly behind Builder and Malroth as the hostess led them to a large booth that already had a bunch of people sitting there. The monster felt his heart rate spike when he realized all these people were Malroth and Builder's other friends. What if he made a bad impression? What if they hated him just like everyone else did?

"Malroff, Builder!" One of the burly, athletic guys rose to clap Malroth on the shoulder. "Good to see ya!"

"Good to see you, too, Dougie," Malroth chuckled. "We still on for football later?"

"You bet! The dream team is gonna win anuvver one!"

"Hi, Builder," a teal-haired girl with big spectacles and a warm, shy smile rose up to give the blonde a hug. "Skipping class again?"

"I was hungry," Builder whined. "And besides, Professor Arisplotle is cool. I work my butt off in his class so he'll let this one slide."

There were so many people greeting the pair of besties that Hargon wondered how he'd ever remember all their names. Would he even have to remember their names? What if he screwed things up and—

"'Ey, 'oo's this bloke?" A young man with red hair in a bowl-cut style was staring at the blue monster.

"Everyone, this is Hargon." Malroth nudged him playfully. "He's the newest member of our group."

"Hargon, huh?" A serious-looking woman with long, pretty purple hair tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you a new student?"

"Y-yes, I just got accepted last month," Hargon replied, fidgeting nervously. The purple-haired girl nodded.

"How do you like the campus so far?"

All eyes fell on him, but they weren't the least bit hostile, nothing like what Hargon was used to. None of them were looking at him contemptuously, like he was an insect beneath their feet. All he could see was genuine curiosity. They were actually interested in getting to know him.

* * *

_"Look, Hargon. Your time's almost up." __A grin threatened to lift Malroth's lips as he thought of the Builder, of Lulu, of all the wonderful adventures in Furrowfield, Khrumbul-Dun, Moonbrooke, even Skelkatraz.__ "But in your next life, I hope you get to make a few good friends. I'm speaking from experience!"_

* * *

"As I look upon all of these bri-bri-bright, shining faces, I cannot help but be reminded of my own days at col-col-college..."

As Harry Hammerhood, the beloved president of ACC, began his long-winded speech for the graduates of New Cantlin's most esteemed community college, Hargon snuck a glance at the mass of people sitting around him. They had once been strangers, but now... Now they were family.

Throughout the course of his time at ACC, Hargon's friendship with Builder, Malroth, and their rag-tag allies had bloomed and flourished. He'd gone from having no friends and wondering if he'd spend the rest of his life alone to having a whole group of people who he spent much of his time with. They'd welcomed him in with open arms, none of them the least bit judgmental (Lulu could be a bit of a pain sometimes, but she was like the older sister he never had; she always had good advice and made a mean cup of tea despite her less-than-savory cooking skills). All of Builder and Malroth's friends treated him like he'd always been part of their group, never once making him feel like an outsider.

Sitting on either side of him were the two who'd introduced him to such a wonderful group of people. Builder was on his right, a radiant smile stretching her lips from ear to ear, her graduation cap decorated with various stickers, glitter, and tiny gems. Malroth was on his left, his graduation cap only slightly decorated at Builder's insistence. Hargon, on the other hand... Well, he'd allowed his friends to make his look unique, and unique it certainly was!

The graduation ceremony continued without a hitch, and soon, everyone was lined up to receive their degrees. When Hargon's name was announced, he was shocked to hear a cacophony of cheers and whoops from Builder, Malroth, Rosie, Dougie, Digby, Babs, Anessa, Esther, Haydin, Perry, and the rest of their group. It never ceased to amaze him just how friendly and supportive they were of him.

When it came time to move their tassels to the left, the applause and cheers that rose up were almost deafening. As the students—now technically _former_ students—made their way to find their families, Hargon watched as most of his friends took off, leaving him by his lonesome. His mother couldn't make it to the ceremony, per usual, and so all he had to look forward to was heading home by himself. He immediately missed his friends and began to wonder if that was it. Did his friendship end with everyone now that school was over? Goodbyes were a part of life and he knew that once college was finished, many people parted ways to pursue different paths. Was this it? Had he gained a degree only to lose his closest friends? Now that he'd had a taste of what it was like to have friends, no, a _family_, and to be loved, how could he ever go back to being lonely? How could—

"Oi, Hargon!"

The monster turned to see Malroth and Builder approaching him, both of them with their caps in hand while a pretty little ring twinkled on Builder's left ring finger. Well, at least now Hargon knew why those two had disappeared: Malroth had finally got up the courage to propose to her. As he should; the pair made a wonderful couple. Anyone could see they loved each other very much.

"We're all heading to Lillian's to celebrate," the spiky-haired male said, wrapping an arm around his fiance's shoulders. Builder was beaming, her eyes flickering to the ring that Malroth had managed to procure after months of working hard at a local construction site. "You coming?"

"R-really?" the blue monster felt a sense of deja-vu.

"Of course, silly," Builder reached over to playfully poke his cheek. "We've been friends for years. You know better than to think we'd ever leave you behind."

As they all met up with the rest of their friends, Hargon couldn't help but feel hopeful towards the future. No matter what happened, no matter what paths they traversed, he knew then and there that he would never be lonely again. He shuddered to think what kind of person he might have become if he hadn't had such wonderful friends surrounding him.


	8. Interlude: All That Glitters

**Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone had a wonderful day.**

**I've been replaying the game again. I think this is my third or fourth time through, I can't remember; all I know is I love DQB2. It's definitely one of my favorite games of all time. Anyway, so this oneshot is inspired by Goldirox and Babs.**

**Oh and please know I am in the process of working on multiple requests! I just wanted to upload something for Valentine's Day because, well, why not? Some of the other oneshots I'm currently working on are a little long, so here's a little somethin' in the meantime ^_^ I apologize if there are any typos or errors. I did notice that a few of my previous oneshots had one or two little errors that I will be going back and fixing in the future.**

**While this one revolves around Babs, there's a bit of Builderoth sprinkled here and there, though. I guess this would be considered a one-sided ship or crackship amidst Builderoth? I dunno... I hope you guys like it regardless!**

**Thank you again for faving and following this. It means the world to me and I'm always humbled by the kind words you all leave. Thank you for reading! And if you wanna see a particular character written or you have a Builder x Malroth request, don't hesitate to send it to me!**

**Next oneshot will revolve around Malroth.**

* * *

_It figured that Babs could have anyone she wanted, but the one person she was interested in was not even an option._

**All That Glitters**

It was strange, to say the least—these feelings she had whenever her mind drifted to images of gold and a sparkling golden bar high above the Khrumbul-Dun town she'd been born and raised in.

All her life, people had raved about her beauty. Even as a child, people cooed over how lovely she was, and when she'd grown up, suddenly she was surrounded by the word "beautiful." Babs was deemed a gorgeous woman, from her long, silky hair to her bright eyes framed by long lashes, to her perfect hourglass figure. She didn't need a lick of makeup, but any makeup she _did_ wear only accentuated her natural beauty.

Beauty, beauty, _beauty_. That's all anyone ever saw, at least, that's how it felt, anyway.

She supposed she shouldn't complain; most women would kill to have men fall at their feet like many did as soon as they caught sight of her. Even Serge, who was rather effeminate and seemed to also eye some of the miners appreciatively, began vying for her affections within a short time of staying within their growing community.

Eventually, when all people saw was physical appearance, all those compliments and wide-eyed stares became tiring. She knew deep down that Dougie, Digby, Magrog, and her father were exceptions to this; they'd been around her for her entire life, after all, so they knew her pretty well. Babs remembered a handful of times when she'd had heart-to-heart conversations with the bulky miners and the blacksmith. They'd known her all her life: they'd seen her at her worst, when she'd lost her temper on a few occasions, and they'd seen her at her absolute best, like when she'd finally gotten up on stage to do the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba after the builder completed the silver bar. They knew her well enough and she trusted each and every one of them with her life. They actually gave a damn about her well-being and would brave anything to ensure her safety and happiness.

But each and every one of them—excluding her father, of course—still competed for her affections. Most of the time it was playful—they did love her dearly, she knew, and they liked her as a person, but she wasn't so sure they were ever serious about marrying her. Den was a good man with a kind heart, but they knew better than to press the issue with the bartender unless they were ready to give Babs the world and then some. Babs was the vineapple of her father's eye; as such, he was incredibly protective over her. And she _knew_ they were serious about her—they'd all risked their lives in the battle against the Madusa, all in hopes to save her life and break the curse.

The tragedy of it all, however, was that Babs didn't have eyes for them. She didn't view any of them as potential partners. Babs caught the eye of many, but no one caught hers.

Goldirox, too, had started to pursue her upon first glance at her. It was almost humorous, really, a massive golem like him meekly asking the builder to build a church so he could ask for Babs's hand in marriage. While the strawberry-blonde was somewhat flattered by the golem's compliments and affectionate, almost dopey ways, she'd initially found herself disappointed. All these men and this male golem ever focused on was her looks and winning her as if she were some sort of trophy to display. Didn't they realize there was much more to her than that? Babs was a _person_, not some doll for them to tote around on their arm, and yet that's all they seemed to view her as: a delicate damsel to woo and marry. Nothing more, nothing less. That's how it felt sometimes, anyway. After a while, she'd learned to tune out their rants and verbal declarations that they'd win her heart. It wasn't that she was ungrateful or haughty; she was just tired of the constant heart-eyes and competitions for her attention.

Didn't they know her heart wasn't on the market? She was beautiful, yes, but that wasn't all she wanted to be known for. There was so much more to her than her looks, yet no one seemed to want to pursue her mind. They just wanted to be able to possess the beauty she displayed, and that, for her, was a definite deal-breaker.

When Malroth and the builder showed up, Babs was relieved (and impressed) that they didn't act like most people who saw her—the builder understood Babs and they could speak without issue. Even Malroth had the decency to look her in the eye and keep her gaze without ogling her body. The pair treated her like a person despite her beauty. The builder also didn't seem to harbor hatred for Khrumbul-Dun's most beautiful lady, another anomaly considering most women immediately hated Babs and were green with envy at the attention she received, immediately offering judgmental glares and clipped tones when she attempted to make friends. The builder, however, wasn't like that at all, for she, too, held Babs's gaze and always greeted her with genuine kindness, never once giving her judgmental once-overs or sneering at her. Suffice it to say that the pair had earned the Khrumbul-Dunnian's respect quickly upon their arrival in town for those exact reasons (alongside their building efforts) and she considered them close friends.

_And she was pretty sure the reason why Malroth didn't look at her like most men did was because he was too busy following a certain blonde builder around like a puppy._

Babs had seen how Malroth looked at the builder, the way he looked at her when he thought she was too busy sketching in that book of hers. She'd also seen the blonde sneak a few looks at her destructive best friend. The Khrumbul-Dunnian dancer knew it was only a matter of time before their hearts caught fire and they fell for each other, if they hadn't already.

In terms of Goldirox, though, upon meeting him, Babs found herself thinking about him more and more with each goal they accomplished. It wasn't a crush or anything; she just couldn't stop _thinking_ about him. From the very first meeting, he was genuine. He was kind to everyone and sometimes he even managed to make her giggle with his choppy sentences, the way he unintentionally listened in to the conversations around him and butted in when Dougie and Digby started going on about how they'd be the ones to win Babs's heart. Goldirox's growing confidence never made him rude or obnoxious or arrogant; he remained a meek and gentle soul despite his excessive physical strength. Most of the time, when Babs witnessed someone becoming stronger, gloating and arrogance followed soon after, but Goldirox didn't do that. Never once did he try to lord his strength and power over his "competition."

When the curse on her was lifted and she found out he'd given his life for hers, she was surprised to feel heartbroken. While everyone else partied the night away and swept her around the stage, eager to get at least one dance with the "crown jewel of Khrumbul-Dun," Babs's thoughts revolved around the golem. Was he well and truly _gone_? Was that it—they'd all worked themselves to the bone to get the ores he'd needed and now, once they'd defeated the Madusa, Goldirox was... gone? But he was supposed to stay with them, he was supposed to be here celebrating with them!

It was after the party, when Babs was in her private bedroom and alone with her thoughts, that she cried herself to sleep. Because once she'd realized he was gone, her heart cracked and ached and suddenly it didn't matter that they'd been victorious against the Children of Hargon—they'd lost a key part of their town, a key part that had helped inspire everyone to shake off their fear and get back to living normal lives. She was grateful that the Children had been defeated, their hold over the mining island finally destroyed, but without Goldirox, home suddenly felt like a strange, empty place. Khrumbul-Dun was free, but it would also never be the same without the golem's presence.

It wasn't until later, after Goldirox revealed that he had become part of the golden bar and reassured everyone that no, he was not gone—he was just watching over the island—that Babs realized why she'd been so heartbroken over his "death."

Goldirox had not only given his life for hers, but he'd encouraged her to move on with her life, to see the world that awaited her. Now that the Children of Hargon had lost their grasp on Khrumbul-Dun, her home was safe. She could do whatever she wanted, _go_ wherever she wanted, and her heart yearned to see this Isle of Awakening that Malroth and the builder always spoke about. The future was brighter than anyone could have ever dreamed and it was right there at their fingertips, and it was mostly due to the builder's efforts, but Goldirox's sacrifice had set everything in stone, no pun intended.

To Babs, his willingness to give up his life was the ultimate form of love. He'd given up everything for her and he wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him. He wanted her to live her life to the fullest, to build to her heart's content if that was what she wished to do, to explore and see the world that extended past the shores of their desert-covered island where he was to remain forevermore. He could have asked for anything in return for saving her life—he could have asked for her hand in marriage, he could have asked her to stay with him for the rest of her days, but instead of any of that, all he asked was that she visit Khrumbul-Dun occasionally and regale tales of the builder's island. He wanted to hear stories of what they were up to, of what they'd accomplish and build and tear down and the times they would all have. Of everything he could have asked for, all he wanted was to remain part of their group and to stay in-the-know about how everyone was doing.

The golem's selflessness was what truly earned him her full attention. She wasn't used to being around male figures who she would describe as "selfless." Most of them would go to bat for her without question—not that she needed them to, but it was the sentiment that counted—but they almost always had selfish motives. They wanted to be heroic in her eyes. They wanted her affection and admiration in return. But Goldirox didn't; he'd helped save Khrumbul-Dun for the sake of saving it. Because it was Babs's home, he, too, considered it his home, and so he went above and beyond not just for her sake, but for everyone's. He wanted to save everyone and protect them, no rewards necessary.

It was then that she also realized she had developed some kind of feelings towards the golem. One day on the Isle of Awakening, during a particularly stormy afternoon, Ordelia sat down with Babs and recounted the story of the Madusa per the dancer's request. She listened intently as the older woman explained how the monstrous Underseer had once been in love with a dashing young man who was loved by many for his looks and charm, the young man who would later become known as Goldirox. She often found herself wondering what he'd looked like as a human. Perhaps his hair had once been just as golden as the bricks that formed his body. What would he have been like? Would he still be as selfless as she knew him to be now? Would he have been just as genuine and humble? Or would he be like most men she'd encountered: only enamored by her looks, her personality merely a bonus in their starstruck eyes?

Babs was eternally grateful to all of her friends for helping her achieve her goals of bringing the golden age back to Khrumbul-Dun and for helping Goldirox. She was even more grateful to them that they'd all fought to lift the curse the Madusa had placed on her. But as she watched Malroth and the builder go from being best friends to lovers, their hands intertwined as they walked around the Isle of Awakening, their lips meeting in sweet, tender kisses when they thought no one was looking, all the flirty winks and smiles they sent each other... she realized that for once, _she_ was the one envious of what someone else had. Babs didn't hate them, of course, nor did she wish ill upon either person, but these feelings she had... They could never be explored or pursued. Goldirox was not human, nor was he really a person anymore (was he ever truly a person, or was that story just a folktale?). He was simply a guardian spirit. Malroth and the builder were lucky, for Malroth was still intact; he was still _alive_. He was human (mostly), he was solid, he was _there_.

_The one person that Babs was interested in... and he wasn't even _human_._

She watched the heroic pair's relationship grow with admiration and a sliver of sadness. She may have been beautiful and perfect in the sight of most who beheld her, but the true beauty was in the relationship between Malroth and the builder. They were so lucky and they didn't even realize it. Malroth protected the builder no matter what—hadn't Goldirox done that for her? Malroth understood the builder's heart just as the builder knew him better than anyone else. Goldirox understood Babs's desire to see the world, and he not only understood but encouraged it, even if it meant watching her leave him behind.

Malroth's feelings towards the builder were on display for all to see, much like Goldirox had been completely up-front about his affection towards Babs. The difference between Goldirox and the miners was that Goldirox didn't seem to want Babs for her beauty alone; he liked her as a person. He was humble about his feelings towards her. Most miners thought themselves the best match for Babs, but Goldirox put her on a pedestal, claiming he wasn't worthy but still wanting to do his best to make her happy. While the miners were willing to save her, there was always some underlying selfish motive, whether it be to earn Babs's affection or admiration, but Goldirox... He only wanted to see her happy.

When Babs really thought about it all... It figured that the one to finally catch her eye and steal a piece of her heart was also out of her reach. He was to remain in Khrumbul-Dun forever as guardian over the arid island. He was to forever reside in the gold bar, his body gone in favor of the golden structure. He wasn't even _human_, and yet somehow, he'd won her heart. She wasn't in love with him, but he'd certainly gotten her attention, something the miners had never been able to do no matter how beefy their muscles were. Goldirox had been the closest she'd ever gotten to being interested in another person.

Close, but no cigar.

It figured that the jewel of Khrumbul-Dun, wanted by many but never giving a second glance to any of her admirers, had developed feelings for someone she could never have.


	9. Monstrous

**Happy post-Valentine's Day! Back to regular Builderoth ;)**

**Another oneshot no one asked for but was sitting in my drive for a while. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Malroth's not entirely human and the Builder's pretty okay with that._

**Monstrous**

First came the wings.

No one knew how it happened or why, but Malroth was ecstatic. At first, he'd been a little weirded out by the fact that one morning he'd suddenly sprouted dragon wings, but he soon learned that they weren't useless: he could _fly_. He could cover long distances and he could even bring the Builder with him. And actually, once he'd gotten used to his newfound ability, he'd picked her up bridal-style and they'd gone flying together, her giggles and excited cheers loud amidst the steady flapping of his wings and the sound of air whooshing past them. Malroth could zip through the skies as much as he liked and he was almost _proud_ of his new appendages.

He became even more proud when lots of villagers asked to touch his wings. They were leathery and purple, but they were _cool_! Some of the people seemed to be a little afraid of his appearance, but once they saw him and the Builder soaring through the skies, their opinions of him changed. Malroth was already a celebrity on the Isle of Awakening, but now he was definitely the talk of the island.

The master of destruction also used his newfound ability to pester Lulu. The Builder was starting to lose count over how many times she'd had to yell at him to put Lulu down after he'd snatched the indignant girl up and did laps around the island all while a sputtering Lulu freaked out over how high up they were, Malroth laughing all the while as he pretended to loosen his grip on her.

First came the wings. Then his nails got sharper.

Malroth's fingernails had always been black. If one didn't know him, one would think he had filthy nails, but the onyx-colored enamel was, well, natural for him. In fact, the Builder initially thought it was nail polish; his nails shone if the light hit them correctly.

One morning, however, when Malroth was getting ready for the day, he pulled on his gloves only to feel them rip through at the fingertips. His nails had somehow become sharper, almost claw-like. He couldn't exactly use this development to pull a fast one on Cerulean Steppe's self-proclaimed princess, but he still took it in stride. He supposed there were some pitfalls to being an alter-ego of the true god of destruction, claw-like nails and wings being such pitfalls, but they weren't anything seriously upsetting.

The Builder was kind enough to make him a few new pairs of gloves and he took greater care when putting them on. Malroth figured that his ripped gloves had been worn out anyway; he'd been meaning to ask the Builder to make him a new pair. His claws had merely done him a favor and sped things up.

For a little while, these were the only changes. Any hubbub over Malroth's appearance quickly faded as the other residents returned to building and enjoying their time on the island. No one batted an eye when they saw a spiky-haired male soaring through the skies above and no one seemed to mind when they saw him eat, his gloves discarded and his black claws in full view. To everyone, he was still Malroth: the other half of the heroic duo who'd saved the world and brought hope back into their lives.

However, not long after he developed claws, it was when Malroth stopped leaving his house that the Builder grew suspicious of a third change taking place. They'd had a lovely evening at Den's bar and then suddenly, the next day, Malroth claimed he wanted to spend the day at home. The Builder had, of course, been taken aback when he hadn't even opened his front door to greet her; he'd simply called to her from behind it. At first, she didn't press; perhaps Malroth was feeling ill and just wanted to be left alone to recuperate. That, or perhaps he just wanted some time to himself. Whatever the reason, she gave him the space he asked for and busied herself with odd jobs around the island.

But after a week, that's when the blonde decided to find out what was really going on. This wasn't like him at all and she was starting to get worried. What could possibly make Malroth want to hide himself away from everyone?

Even Perry, someone who was a little afraid of Malroth, had approached her one day and inquired about the man's absence.

"'E was supposed to 'elp us with smashin' some rocks to build a new field," the farmer had explained. "But 'e never showed up. We managed wivvout 'im, but still. You reckon 'e's alright?"

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out," the Builder promised, and sure enough, after grabbing some food to bring to him (because if he was actually suffering from an illness, he'd need all the nutrition he could get and she'd make sure of it), she headed up the hill and towards the castle-like house she'd built for him right after they'd saved the world. Once at his doorstep, she knocked loudly.

"Malroth!" When he didn't respond, she continued: "C'mon, I know you're in there! Please open up!"

"Go away!"

His voice sounded uncharacteristically hoarse and... sad?

_Alright, that does it._

The Builder narrowed her eyes and fished through her pocket for the spare key she'd made. Unlocking the door, she burst into the room and he jumped from where he'd been sitting on the bed, his wings resting on some pillows propped up against the headboard. His boots were on the floor and his jacket was neatly folded on the nightstand; he stared at her with incredulity.

"What the hell, Builder?!"

She glared at him, hands on her hips. "What the hell, _Malroth_? I haven't seen you in a week and I... I... Oh?"

The blonde paused when she realized the destructive young man truly _had_ undergone a third change. There was another pair of arms underneath the original pair, and they just as strong, toned, and tan like the rest of him. The upper pair, most likely his original arms, were supporting him as he leaned back, but the new pair were folded across his chest.

It suddenly occurred to the Builder that he now had _four_ arms instead of two. Wings and claws were one thing, but wow, this was certainly different...

As her eyes took in this new development, she happened to glance up and meet her best friend's gaze. For the first time since she'd known him, Malroth looked nervous, like she'd discovered a secret she wasn't supposed to find out about. To his credit, though, he didn't yell at her and he didn't scream, "Get out!" like he could've. Instead, he looked away and neither of them said anything for a spell, the Builder too shocked to form coherent thoughts.

She'd never seen someone with four arms before. The more she looked at him, the more she began to wonder if _this_ was why he'd been hiding. Wings and claws were one thing, but another set of arms?

Her previous ire forgotten, the Builder eased the door closed behind herself and made her way towards the bed. She sat next to him and took it as a small victory when he didn't try to push her away or move away from her.

"So, um..." she fiddled with her hands. "When did they—"

"A few days after the claws came in," he grumbled, still not looking at her. After a few heartbeats and what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, the Builder decided enough was enough and gently placed a hand on his cheek. She turned his face towards hers, his eyes meeting hers in uncertainty. She was surprised to see him so vulnerable but she supposed everyone had their moments, even Malroth, and the fact that he looked very much inhuman was definitely cause for him to feel out of sorts.

Inhuman or not, though, he was still her best friend. He was still her Malroth.

"Can you move them?" the Builder asked, and he nodded affirmatively. His original arms stretched above his head while the second pair reached forward, the hands flexing their fingers. The Builder had to admit, though it was not something she'd ever seen before, it was kind of cool. If Malroth were to ever drop something, at least he'd have two more hands to catch it!

"Well, they're definitely not something you see everyday, but I think you look good with them," she assured, offering him a kind smile. It was the truth; if anyone could pull off the half-god, half-human look, it was Malroth.

"I look like a freak," he deadpanned. It was that moment when the Builder realized there was a bit of sadness in his eyes as well. He was ashamed and sad and... Was that also a sliver of fear? Was he afraid of what the others thought? Of what _she_ thought?

...So _that_ was why he'd shut himself away. He was afraid of the others' reactions to his changed appearance. For once, Malroth was self-conscious about himself.

The Builder shook her head. "Mal, trust me, you don't look like a freak."

"Oh yeah? Do you know a lot of people who have _four_ arms?" he shot back, finally swatting her hands from his face. He was scowling, but she knew he wasn't mad at her; he was hating on himself. "What's next, scales and horns? Actually no, don't answer that, because that's the last thing I need. I can't show my face in public ever again. I look _hideous_. Who the hell has four arms?!"

Her heart broke a little for him. "But you don't look—"

"Yeah I do. What kind of _freak_ looks the way I look?"

The Builder gently took his hands into hers, his sharp black nails contrasting nicely against her porcelain skin. "Just because your appearance may have changed a little doesn't mean _you_ have, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that something like this isn't enough to change our opinion of you. No one thinks you're a freak and no one will ever think you're a freak. True friends don't care about physical appearances."

He softened a little at her words, yet something continued to bother him. He met her eyes meekly.

"Builder... How am I supposed to face everyone when I... when I look like _him_?"

Malroth didn't need to specify who "him" was. It was clear that he hated anything to do with his alter ego, and it was a huge kick to the teeth that with each passing day, his appearance grew increasingly similar to the unholy entity that had nearly destroyed their world.

"You don't look like the other Malroth," the Builder argued. "And even if you somehow _did_ look like him, we all know you _aren't_ him. You're the furthest thing from being him."

"But what if the others—"

"Anyone who truly cares about you is not going to care what you look like, they'll only care about _you_," the blonde stated matter-of-factly. "You saved the world, remember? And I can't count how many times you've protected all of us, or how many times you led all of us to victory even when the odds were stacked against us, and although you weren't able to help us build, you still encouraged all of us to do our best. You'll never be the god of destruction; you'll only ever be _you_, and we all like you just the way you are."

Growing bold, the Builder lifted her hands to cup his jaw and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"What if they laugh?" he whispered.

"If they laugh, I'll clobber them." That earned her a chuckle. "Seriously though, I doubt anyone will laugh or treat you differently. And why would they? Everyone on the Isle thinks the world of you, including me."

"None of this is normal," he continued, opening his eyes again. The raw emotion there made the Builder want to hug him, and by all rights she would've, but she wanted to give him a chance to voice his fears. It wasn't often that he felt this way and she wanted him to feel comfortable opening up to her. "I mean, I... I _know_ I'm not normal by default, but..."

The Builder giggled. "Are any of us really normal? Come on, Mal, we're all a little weird, some more than others. Whether you've got two arms or four, you fit right in with the rest of us; you always have and you always will. And besides, you're looking at this the wrong way! The next time Dougie challenges you to wrestle, you'll be guaranteed a victory."

At that, the worry and vulnerability left Malroth's face and he perked up a bit. "I guess that's true."

"And now when we go flying, you'll have less of a chance of dropping me." She nudged him playfully. "Or Lulu."

He chuckled. "Another good point."

"Plus..." Bashfulness lit her eyes. "Another set of arms means more cuddles."

Malroth leaned in close to her face, his nose brushing against hers. The naughty smirk that lifted his mouth did funny things to her tummy. "Are you saying you like cuddling with me?"

Numerous memories of her waking up to find him curled around her came to mind, but she feigned ignorance. "Maaaybe..."

"There is no 'maybe,' Builder."

"Well, there is now. What are you gonna do about it, _hmm_?"

He chuckled again. One of his hands cupped her cheek as his lips hovered dangerously close to hers. "Are you really challenging me?"

The Builder pecked his lips teasingly. "As you always say: come get some."

He growled and pulled her onto his lap, one set of arms wrapping around her waist while the other rested around her shoulders, his lips claiming hers in a searing kiss. The Builder giggled before giving into him and they spent the rest of the evening together, the Builder's assignments and Malroth's insecurities forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

The next day, no one made any remarks about how Malroth had sprouted a second pair of arms (although some were curious about it, they certainly didn't think him a freak as he'd feared). Instead, the talk of the Isle revolved around how that very afternoon, Malroth and the Builder emerged from the destructive young man's home looking rather disheveled. They held hands as they made their way to Lillian's for a late breakfast (lunch?) and ignored the glances they received. Apparently the Isle of Awakening's heroic duo had finally become an item... To the Isle's knowledge, anyway. If Malroth and the Builder had become a thing before that, they'd managed to keep it hidden well.

Malroth never did develop horns or scales, but those extra set of arms _did_ come in handy during his roughhousing with the miners. In fact, he looked even more awesome when they held flexing contests.

And that second pair of arms certainly came in handy when he wanted to shower a little extra love on his favorite blonde Builder.


	10. Nightmares

**As per request, I will be uploading my original oneshots into this little collection-thing. The originals are still gonna stay up, but I figured why not add them here?**

**Just a heads-up, these may seem a teensy bit different because I'll be re-editing, but the main plots are still in place.**

**Also, I hope my writing isn't too awkward to read. Sometimes when I go through these oneshots, I cringe at some typos and errors I find.**

*****Please know I am still working on requests, I'm just busy at the moment, so if I'm not posting much, again, please don't think I've stopped writing or that I'm not going to write your idea. I will! I just have midterms coming up, so I'm lowkey dead. But in my free time, I am writing for this oneshot thing!**

* * *

_"You haven't been sleeping, have you?"_

**Nightmares**

"Hey, get up, will you? Come on, at least say something!"

The Builder didn't move. A strange expression rested on her features, that dopey smile nowhere to be found. For once, she looked troubled, like she was having a bad dream, and for all Malroth knew, she _was_ having a bad dream; after all, the red and black skies around them, the ruins, everything was a nightmare in and of itself. Not to mention his monstrous alter ego had just been released to wreak havoc on their world...

He stood over her, unsure of what to do. He'd already tried shaking her awake and that didn't seem to work. It was only after his eyes raked over her, trying to figure out if she was injured or not, that he spotted red on her upper lip.

"What's this?" He reached out and gently touched the crimson liquid, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. "Blood…?"

She still didn't stir. Her eyes remained closed and blood continued to slowly drip from her nose.

Malroth forced a grin. "Ha ha! Nice one! You had me going for a second there, but you can drop the act now."

The Builder remained eerily still and Malroth's grin fell as quickly as it had formed. Wait, was she even breathing? He stared at her for a few seconds before dropping to his knees and shaking her more fiercely.

"C'mon, you gotta wake up. Stop playing around!"

The cheerful blonde still didn't stir. Malroth leaned his cheek against her lips, and sure enough, he didn't feel her breath against his skin. That's when he began to panic.

"Seriously, wake up," he cried. "This isn't funny!"

He shook her again, her limbs lolling around, but still, the Builder did not stir.

_No... No, this wasn't supposed to happen, this can't be happening..._

Malroth could feel his heart aching, his eyes growing hot and itchy. She had to be alive, she just had to be! After all the battles they'd survived, after taking down his monstrous form despite her wimpy strength… No, she _was_ alive. There was no way she…

"Wake up, dammit!" he growled, shaking her again. Malroth's expression crumpled when she remained lifeless.

"Please?" he whispered. "Please, you have to wake up… I can't do this without you, please…"

Malroth bowed his head in defeat, his heart breaking in half. His best friend was dead and it was all his fault. If he wasn't a _monster_, if he wasn't the God of Destruction, then she would be alive, she would be happy, she would be...

_This is all my fault. I killed her, I got her killed, I was supposed to protect her and I killed her, this is all my fault my fault my fault my_—

Malroth jolted upright in bed with a gasp, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

A frantic look around indicated he wasn't in Hargon's realm; he was in the house he and the Builder shared. The blonde was sound asleep in her own bed just a few feet away, snoring softly.

The sight of her broke his heart. He remembered her broken form, the blood, the way she _wouldn't fucking wake up_… And suddenly he had to know if it was real or not. The destructive young man leapt out of bed and quietly padded over to his best friend, lifting a hand to her nose. She was breathing, alright, and no blood coated her upper lip. She was fit as a fiddle, just as she always was.

He let out a relieved sigh and watched in satisfaction as she slept on. He noticed that the blanket had fallen below her shoulders and he carefully pulled it back up to her chin, tucking her in. Malroth couldn't imagine a world where his best friend was… Nope. He shook his head fiercely in an attempt to stave off the hot tears that threatened to form in his eyes. She was here right now, she was alive and healthy, and _this_ was reality. They'd defeated Hargon and Malroth's alter ego, and peace reigned throughout the world. They were okay, they were _safe_.

Still... He remembered the moments before the final battle, of them waking up in Hargon's destroyed castle. Wondering where he was, finding the Builder's battered body, trying to make a medicinal herb… Sometimes "what if" questions nagged at him, like what if he hadn't gotten that medicinal herb to her in time? What if she had died from his monstrous alter-ego blowing up Hargon's castle? What if he never got a chance to talk to her again after what happened in Moonbrooke?

If she _had_ died, what would he do without her, how could he go on without her? Malroth couldn't remember his life before waking up on the Isle of Awakening, and he had no clue if he even had a life before then, but he knew one thing: meeting the Builder was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If anything ever happened to her…

He sighed, forcing the thought away. What mattered was the Builder was _alive_, and she was just as sweet and happy and okay as she could ever be. Since the start of their friendship, he'd stopped caring about himself and focused more on _her_, making sure she had everything she needed, that she was treated well, that she was _safe_. And all his hard work had paid off because here she was, snoring like a baby, completely at ease.

The rest of the night passed by without issue. Malroth didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep, instead picking through the bookcase. He wasn't much of a reader and he would have passed the time training, but he didn't want to wake the Builder when she needed her rest. He could have gone outside to train with one of the dummies she'd made for him, but part of him didn't want to leave her side in case something _did _happen and she'd need his help. He kept glancing over at her to make sure she was indeed breathing, and when dawn finally broke and she woke up, it was only then that he felt true relief.

* * *

A couple days later, Malroth and the Builder were hanging out in Cerulean Steppe. The blonde was building a home for Anessa, figuring out where to put all the new furniture she'd just made, and he was sitting by the fireplace in the local inn. He could see her from his spot, the window remaining clear despite the snow coming down; the Builder didn't seem to mind the weather, too focused on finishing the new project at hand to care that snow was beginning to coat her hair and clothes.

At some point, the warmth from the fire began lulling Malroth to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy and he had to fight to stay awake, but as he watched the snow continue to drift down, his best friend standing still as she studied the blueprint she'd scribbled up, he began to lose the battle. When his eyes drifted shut, it felt like only a second had passed before he opened them again.

He looked around in confusion at the ruins of Hargon's castle. Where was this place? How did he even get here? The sky was such a strange color... Had he died and gone to heaven? Or hell, more likely...

Wait... Why was he getting a crazy sense of déjà vu? And where was the Builder!?

Suddenly, Malroth caught sight of a familiar pair of blonde pigtails. The Builder was lying motionless a little ways away from where he was standing. He called her name, asking if she was okay, and rushed over to her, dropping to his knees and shaking her.

"Hey, get up, will you? Come on, at least say something!"

She didn't move. A strange expression rested on her face, that dopey smile absent. After examining her for injuries, Malroth noticed a spot of red beneath her nose. He touched the crimson liquid with his fingers, rubbing them together.

"What's this? Blood...?"

She didn't stir. Blood continued to slowly drip from her nose and Malroth forced a grin despite the lurch in his stomach that something was wrong, _very_ wrong.

"Ha ha! Nice one! You had me going for a second there, but you can drop the act now."

Still, the Builder didn't move. Malroth's grin fell, the bad feeling in his gut worsening. He whispered her name, and finally, _finally_, she opened her eyes.

Relief flooded him and he sighed. "Thank goodness! You're alive! You really had me worried!"

"Please..." she breathed. "Make... a medicinal... herb.."

Malroth cocked his head to the side in confusion. "...What? You need me to make you a dose of medicinal herb?"

At her affirmative hum, he grew slightly indignant and embarrassed. "Don't be silly! I can't make a thing—you know that! You've watched me try enough times..."

The Builder smiled weakly. "The Master of Destruction can't make anything, but... maybe _you_ can.."

Even at her worst, she was still willing to believe in him. Malroth wasn't exactly feeling hopeful or optimistic about his ability to create, but he had to try. He had to do his best for her. Plus, she did have a point.

"Ahhh, I see where you're coming from!" He gave a resolved nod. "Alright, I'll give it a shot!"

As the Builder offered him one last smile and closed her eyes, resting her broken body, Malroth turned away from her, trying to figure out where to start.

"Okay—building stuff, building stuff..." He paced back and forth while racking his brain. Countless memories of watching the Builder create, place, and change all sorts of things flickered through his memory. There was always something she started out with, but what was it...? He covered his face with his hands.

"Agh, how do I do this?"

Malroth looked around the ruins. There had to be _something_ here he could use, something to make a medicinal herb... Wasn't there a specific plant for that? He vaguely remembered the Builder always snagging a medicinal leaf from a shrub in the Moonbrooke Castle courtyard.

He hurried towards a bunch of green-covered castle wall blocks, the remains of what was once a garden, and there, amidst some of the surviving foliage, was a medicinal shrub. After obtaining a medicinal leaf, he made his way towards the workbench, trying and failing to create a medicinal herb. Once he finally managed to make one, he admired his creation before sprinting back to the Builder, who appeared to be sleeping.

"Hey!" He grinned, feeling very proud of himself for finally having been able to make something. "I made the medicinal herb you wanted! Here!"

Malroth eased her mouth open and placed the herb inside, her body lighting up with its healing power. He waited a moment; after all, she'd sustained some pretty serious wounds. It would take a few minutes, but then she'd be as good as new, just like lots of times before.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity before shaking her limp form again. Still, she remained motionless, and... Had her skin always felt this cool?

Malroth's grin faltered and he shook her again.

...She didn't move.

She wasn't breathing.

"No..." he whispered. "No, no, come on, already, get up! Stop playing around!"

He shook her harder, but the blonde didn't stir. She was completely motionless, lifeless, peace resting on her expression instead of agony. Malroth's vision began to grow watery as he wrapped his arms around her.

If he wasn't such a screw up and could make things, maybe she'd be alive. If he had gotten to her sooner, maybe he could've healed her before she—

A sob escaped him. _This is all my fault._

"C'mon, you have to wake up..." His voice cracked and tears finally began to slide down his cheeks. "I c-can't... I need you with me. Please, wake up... Wake up..."

_Wake up..._

...

_"Wake up!"_

The destructive young man jolted awake, his eyes flying open in alarm as he jerked forward. He immediately winced at the sharp pain in his back from leaning against the stone fireplace at an odd angle. As everything came into focus, he realized the Builder was crouched in front of him, her wide blue eyes full of concern.

"Are you alright?"

Malroth's heart ached and his eyes burned, tears threatening to brim at the edges of his vision. All he could see was her eyes closed, body broken beyond a medicinal herb's healing... His best friend _gone_. All because of _him_. It was his fault. If he wasn't a monster in the first place, then maybe she wouldn't have suffered such injuries.

But... She was here right now, wasn't she? She was healthy, safe, happy... They spent their days building stuff, bashing baddies, and overall enjoying the new world they lived in. Dreams were just dreams, they didn't mean anything or make any sense. The "what if"s didn't matter when everything had worked out, right?

"I'm fine," he lied, getting to his feet. "I just nodded off for a bit."

"You sure?" She stood as well. "You looked like you were in pain, and you kept muttering to yourself."

"Nothing. Just a dream."

Before she could say anything more, Malroth mumbled something about being hungry and hurried out of the inn, leaving the Builder and a very confused innkeeper to wonder what was going on with the tough young man.

* * *

If that particular day in Cerulean Steppe wasn't unusual enough, the Builder definitely began to suspect something was wrong when Malroth began acting differently.

Despite saving the world, he was still the same rough-and-tumble guy he'd always been. He wandered around the Isle without a care in the world, occasionally sparring with Digby and Dougie, bickering with Lulu, admiring the Builder's handiwork, fighting off monsters that dared to mess with villagers... Nothing out of the ordinary on that front.

He did, however, yawn a lot. He would yawn and rub his eyes in an attempt to fight off drowsiness, and his usual vigor for battle was unusually absent. He was happy to mash monsters, but almost every battle, no matter how big or small, left him winded. Sometimes he'd go straight home as soon as they made it back to the Isle after going exploring, which wasn't like him at all; he normally enjoyed hanging out at the bar in Scarlet Sands with the miners. He liked going to the Explorer's Islands but lately, he didn't seem as enthusiastic to visit them.

Nowadays, when they were fighting alongside each other, Malroth would quickly dispose of the enemy before the Builder could even reach for her sword. He never liked seeing her go toe-to-toe with their enemies, claiming it set him on edge, but now it was almost like he didn't want her fighting _at all._ He took on every enemy by himself and if the Builder even tried to help him, he'd fight harder to end the battle quicker.

Malroth was also more... Clingy? The blonde knew her best friend better than anyone else (even better than Lulu, despite the pinkette claiming she knew them both better than they knew themselves), so she knew he wasn't touchy-feely, nor was he the type to hover. He'd watch her build stuff, but he would also wander off and do his own thing. Lately, however, the Builder noticed he was around her very often.

..."Often" meaning he was around all the time.

He stuck to her like glue.

She'd be working on something high up in the mountains and suddenly, Malroth would pop up.

She'd be on the other side of the Isle (from where he was, anyway), and suddenly, a few hours into her project, he'd show up, hands behind his back, appearing to supervise what she was doing.

Malroth tended to wander around close enough so that she could see him out of her peripheral vision. He kept an eye on her and what she was up to, never really having much to say. He never really stared at her, so it wasn't weird, but he was still _there_.

One day she'd informed him that she'd be spending more time in Cerulean Steppe to build a music hall. Malroth replied by saying he'd be in Scarlet Sands if she needed him, so she figured that was where he'd stay. For about two hours, the blonde was left to her work. The Builder had just finished laying down the foundations when suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she spied a familiar spiky ponytail. Sure enough, Malroth had made the trek to Cerulean Steppe and was hovering around her. She was very aware of his presence and didn't mind his company, but she was curious as to why he was suddenly around her all. The. Time.

When the blonde had a second after finishing the building's walls, she risked a peek at him. He wasn't watching her like she'd initially thought. Instead, he was propped against a tree, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed as he snoozed. The Builder would've melted at the sight (how could someone so violent be so cute?), but Malroth's expression was not one of peace: he looked troubled. Those thick dark eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a deep frown. The Builder also noticed, for the first time, that there were dark circles underneath his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping.

After debating whether or not she should wake him, she figured that Malroth should at least find a more comfortable spot to sleep. She approached him and gently shook him awake, and the destructive young man instantly got to his feet.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice thick with drowsiness, one hand immediately reaching for his mallet.

The Builder eased his hand off the hilt. "Nothing's wrong, I just thought you might like a better place to sleep."

He relaxed slightly, mumbling "I'm fine," and the Builder sighed.

"Look, my work bench is right there, at least let me make you a bed."

"I said I'm fine. Seriously, don't worry about me."

The blonde pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "Malroth."

He looked at her with what was supposed to be a non-negotiable expression, but all she could see was the epitome of exhaustion. Something was clearly going on with him and it was weighing on him greatly. Why wouldn't he tell her what was wrong?

"Why are you looking at me like I just willingly ate one of Lulu's cooking experiments?" he asked, half-jokingly. The Builder would've smiled, but she knew he was deflecting.

They knew each other well enough to know when something was bothering the other person. Malroth could read her perfectly and vice versa; so why wasn't he opening up to her? Malroth wasn't the type to be open about his feelings, but he was also the type that if someone asked him how he felt, he'd be blunt.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What? Of course I have. I was sleeping just now before you woke me up."

"You look tired," she pressed. "Is everything okay? You're exhausted anymore."

He scoffed. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine? Just drop it already."

The dark-haired man stormed off, not really angry at the blonde as he was angry with himself. He didn't know why the nightmares had started, but they just kept getting worse. He was embarrassed that it was getting to the point where his friend was starting to notice that he wasn't at his best. How was he supposed to protect her when he couldn't even handle nightmares? And how was she supposed to feel safe with him when he couldn't even keep himself together, or at least pretend he was okay?

After an evening spent in the steamy spa at Green Gardens, Malroth and the Builder headed back to their house to retire for the night. Malroth was, of course, dragging slightly, as he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in forever, while the Builder kept a slight distance from him. She wasn't upset with him, she just wasn't sure how to broach the topic again without Malroth snapping at her. Something serious was bothering him and it was clearly a touchy subject, and forcing him to talk would only make him angry.

As they both got ready for bed, said goodnight to each other, and climbed into their respective beds, the Builder realized she wasn't actually tired. Malroth conked out pretty quickly, but she just couldn't fall asleep. She got up and began looking through the bookcase for something to read. Most of the books here had been shipped in from Moonbrooke; they weren't about anything serious, but the revival of the war-torn country had brought with it a new age of art, literature, a booming economy, and a lot of happy folks. The Builder wasn't exactly an avid reader, but sometimes she did enjoy curling up with a book and getting lost in a story for a few hours.

Selecting a random fiction book, she returned to her bed and settled in, getting comfy under the covers. An hour passed and she was just turning the page to the third chapter when she heard a sniffle.

The blonde paused, wondering if it had just been her imagination, but sure enough, it came again, and _again_, as if someone was trying not to cry. She glanced out the window; all the lights were off in the residential area across from them, so who...?

Suddenly, a loud gasp pierced the silence and Malroth jerked forward in his bed, panting as if he'd run a marathon. It made the Builder jump.

"Mal?"

When he caught his breath, he ran a hand over his face tiredly. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was already up. Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm..." He sighed. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

The Builder blinked. "Of course."

"Do you ever have bad dreams?"

"Nightmares? Well, yes, but why?"

"How... How long do you usually have them? Like, do you have one right after the other or...?"

She shifted her position so she could see him better. His expression was so not-Malroth that it made her wonder where this was coming from. "Every now and then one pops up, but it's never one right after another."

He groaned softly, as if she hadn't given him the answer he was looking for. "Alright. I was just wondering."

A few heartbeats passed as the Builder mustered up enough courage to ask him what had been plaguing her for the past week. It was when he was getting ready to go back to sleep that she decided it was now or never.

"What's going on with you?"

He turned around, blinking at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"You're exhausted, you're having nightmares, you're unhappy..." The Builder chewed her lip worriedly. "Talk to me, Malroth. What's bothering you?"

It was quiet for a moment. Malroth didn't know what to say or how to say it—that he kept having dreams where she died or was already dead, him weeping over her broken body. Dreams where she was in danger and he couldn't get to her in time to protect her, watching her get slain as he stood there, helpless and unable to do anything; dreams where his monstrous form managed to kill her off.

"It's just..." He struggled to find the right words. "I just... I have these nightmares, and.. they're pretty intense."

"How intense are we talking?"

Malroth simply looked at his best friend, his eyes slightly red and puffy, and it clicked.

_Intense enough to make him cry._

"I see," the Builder said. "So... What are they about?"

_They're about losing you. _A lump of emotion formed in the back of his throat and he covered his face with his hands. His eyes burned with tears and he fought his hardest to get himself under control. He nearly jumped when the mattress dipped beside him and a pair of arms wrapped around him.

"Whatever they're about, they're just dreams," the Builder assured, rubbing his back. "They aren't real and they don't mean anything."

Malroth couldn't help it. He sniffled and suddenly the dam broke, and he grabbed her, tugging her into a bear hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and let out a shuddering sigh, his eyes shut tightly as tears slipped out.

The Builder held him and continued to rub his back. She had never seen Malroth this upset before and part of her wondered what kind of nightmare could rattle him to the point of tears _and_ clinging to someone for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her nightgown. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm supposed to be strong, I'm not supposed to be broken down by a bunch of stupid dreams."

The blonde pulled back to look at her friend and Malroth refused to meet her eyes, ashamed of his vulnerability.

"Are you kidding me? You're one of the strongest people I know." She smiled. "I don't know what these dreams are about, and I dunno if you feel comfortable talking about them, but I _do_ know that even at your worst, you're still as strong as ever. It's okay to not be okay sometimes, Mal."

"I _know_ that," he grumbled. "But I'm supposed to be different."

"You're human, cut yourself some slack; you can bawl your eyes out and still be strong, you don't have to pick one or the other."

"I don't like bawling."

"I don't either, but sometimes it's necessary and it doesn't make you weak." She reached up and wiped his tears away. When he finally looked at her, she wasn't disappointed or angry with him; all he could see was acceptance and genuine concern. It made him feel funny inside, like he wanted to hug her and never let go.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing. She cupped his cheek, running her thumb over the smooth skin, and Malroth leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed.

"Weeks."

"Are they all about the same thing? Or are they about different stuff?"

He sighed. "The subject is the same, but the dreams are about different situations."

"May I ask what the subject is?"

_Her broken body laying there unmoving, blood coating her face and she wasn't breathing and it was his fault his fault his—_

He shook his head, trying to fight off the fresh onset of tears that were forming in his eyes. "N-no. Not really."

The Builder took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers together.

"Hmm... I have an idea," she said, piquing his interest. "When I was little and I had a bad dream, I'd sleep next to my parents until the nightmares went away. Now, I know you're not a kid or anything, but if it helps, I could sleep next to you, that way if you have a bad dream, I'm right here and I can help remind you that everything's alright."

Malroth went to protest that he could take care of himself, that he was fine and that she should sleep in her own bed where she'd be most comfortable, but she held up a hand before he could speak.

"It won't be for forever and I don't mind as long as you don't mind. No one has to know, it'll be between you and me. I just want to make sure you're okay; remember how you said you're on edge whenever you see me in a fight? Well, it puts _me_ on edge when I see you not feeling one-hundred percent and I'm not able to do anything to help you."

His mouth closed and all his arguments flew out the window. He slumped in defeat.

"Okay, fine. I guess... I guess we could try that."

The Builder beamed. "Great! Okay, let's get comfortable."

She snaked an arm around his waist and snuggled close to him. Malroth was surprised at first, not used to being touchy-feely (especially with her), but after seeing her sigh happily and feeling her small frame wrapped around his, he decided he liked it. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even closer.

"If you have any nightmares, wake me up," she murmured against his chest. "And if you even _think_ about trying to handle it on your own, I'll kick your butt. Understand?"

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

It took him a little longer than usual to fall asleep, but when he finally did, for the first time in two weeks, he slept without issue.

* * *

The Builder's offer to sleep beside Malroth proved to be just the cure he needed for his nightmares.

After the first night, the Builder slept beside him the next evening, then again, and then, when she finally deemed him okay to try to sleep on his own, Malroth realized that he was doing much better. No more bad dreams tortured him and life seemed to go back to normal.

Yet one night, the Builder heard the familiar sharp intake of breath even while in a deep sleep. She cracked open her bleary eyes and blinked at the darkness of the room. The gasp that woke her was followed by heavy breathing and a frustrated growl. She didn't have to see to know Malroth had his face buried in his hands, embarrassed that a nightmare had disturbed his sleep yet again.

"You okay?" she called, and he sighed.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

It was the Builder's turn to sigh. She rubbed her eyes and waited until they adjusted to the darkness around her. When she could see, she grabbed her pillow and began to make her way towards Malroth's bed. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time she padded over to him, his gaze curious.

She sat down next to him and nudged him. "Move over, please."

"Why?"

"Just move over, I'm gonna lay beside you."

After a moment of hesitation, he shifted to make room for her, and the Builder placed her pillow beside his. She settled down next to him and Malroth tried to ignore the butterflies that formed in his stomach at her closeness. They'd done this countless nights before and he never knew how to handle it. Nightmares were just dreams and he _knew_ that, yet he'd still wake up disoriented and afraid, and somehow his best friend _always_ _knew_, even when he tried to be quiet about it. At first, he felt humiliated that she had caught him at his weakest, but when she would lie down next to him, the nightmares either eased up or went away completely. He didn't know how, but she brought him peace, and considering how the nightmares were always about losing her, waking up to find her safe in his arms was the most comforting thing he could imagine.

"This okay?" she asked, wrapping an arm around his midsection and resting her cheek against his bare chest. At the feel of her snuggled close to him, he instantly felt better.

"Yeah."

"Good." She closed her eyes, and after a few minutes, her voice came again, albeit more softly: "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He hesitated. One of the things Malroth hated most was discussing feelings, but... With her, it wasn't so bad. She never judged him and she always listened carefully to what he had to say.

"It… It was about Hargon. The visions he sent me."

"What about them?"

It always bothered him to remember that one vision where all his friends were lying in a pool of blood, all of them dead by his hands. How could any version of himself do such a thing to the people he had lived with, fought alongside, and cared for? And how could he fall for such a nasty trick, to think he was fighting monsters when actually he was fighting his friends, people who were almost like family?

When he didn't respond, the Builder opened her eyes again and looked up at him. It was rare to see him look so troubled.

"That bad, huh?"

"I…yeah." His expression fell. "There was this vision where he tricked me into… He tricked me into killing all these monsters, but they weren't monsters at all."

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and the Builder waited patiently for him to continue.

"Th-they were actually all of our friends, a-and Hargon himself…" His voice cracked, much to his embarrassment. "When I killed Hargon, he transformed into you."

"Me?"

He nodded. "Everyone I cared about was dead, _you_ were dead, and it was all my fault. He tricked me into killing every single one of you. It bothers me because, I mean... What if I'd gone off the deep end and hurt everyone? What if I..."

Malroth's vision grew watery and the Builder sat up again, pulling him into a hug. He fought the tears back as best he could, not wanting to cry in front of the one person he cared about above the rest. As he tried to collect his bearings, the Builder rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"What matters is that you _didn't_ go off the deep end and hurt everyone," she reminded him. "It was just a vision. It wasn't real and everyone is safe. You could've used your powers for anything, but you used them to save all of us. You saved the entire world, Mal."

"B-but in the vision, I—"

"It was all an illusion to trip you up and make you doubt yourself." She pulled back so she could meet his gaze. "You're a good person and everyone here knows that. We all know you would never hurt us; you're tough and you can be a little brazen sometimes, but you're not evil."

Malroth seemed to deflate at that. "I would never, _ever_ hurt you."

"I know that. Isn't that what I just said?" She smiled, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of his hair out of his face. "And honestly, when Hargon took you away, everyone was very worried about you. I was the only one who could go after you, but _everyone_ was ready to fight for you."

That surprised him. "They… They were?"

"Of course. Like I said, you're a good person. You've got a lot of friends who care about you and we all know you've got a good heart. You're worth fighting for, just as you always say all of us are worth fighting for. Whatever Hargon made you see was just a bunch of nonsense. Everything you see and feel right now is real, and when you see all of our friends, when you see _me_, that's what's real. All of us are alive and you're not dangerous; if anything, you're the one who keeps us all safe. So don't doubt yourself based off of Hargon's tricks."

She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her touch. She always knew just what to say to help him feel better, and... He didn't know why, but he liked it when she touched him like this. If anyone else did, he'd be weirded out, but her... He liked it when she rubbed his back and touched his face.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." She yawned. "Did you dream about anything else?"

"No. Just that."

"Was that what you used to dream about before I started sleeping next to you?"

Malroth shook his head. "Those were actually worse."

The Builder looked up at him curiously. "Worse?"

Sadness filled him at the memory of seeing her lifeless body lying amidst the destruction of Hargon's castle. If anything had happened to her, if she hadn't survived or the medicinal herb hadn't helped her...

"Malroth?"

"They were about you," he admitted. "About Malhalla, and right before the final battle when you were almost... I was so scared that I'd lose you. I'm still scared of losing you. I know you're strong, but if anything ever happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."

Her heart clenched painfully. So _that's_ what had had him so rattled before... And _that's_ why he'd been sticking extra close to her lately; he was watching over her to assuage his anxieties and make sure he was around to protect her.

"I'm not going anywhere and you'll never lose me. I'm here with you and there's no monster or person or anything that will ever change that... Unless, of course, you decide you wanna go your own way."

"Never," he assured. "I'm always gonna be here. You're the one person I care about more than anything else in this world, so... I won't let anything happen to you, and I won't ever leave your side. Wherever you go, I go."

"Then we're square." She yawned. "If you have any more nightmares, wake me up?"

"Maybe."

The Builder pouted at him and he chuckled. "Alright, alright, I promise I will. Try to get some sleep, yeah?"

The blonde cuddled up to him again and he wrapped an arm around her protectively. She was out within minutes, her breathing deep and even, and Malroth fell asleep soon after, no more nightmares plaguing him. The next few nights, Malroth didn't have nightmares, or any dreams, for that matter. The Builder reluctantly began sleeping in her own bed again, and he had to admit, he missed having her in his arms, but he was happy to no longer suffer from images of what could have been her death.

Life went back to normal for a little while, the nightmares allowing the destructive man a brief reprieve.

The Builder wasn't so lucky.

* * *

_Lightning crackled across the reddish-black sky as the Builder wandered the hopeless, barren landscape of Malhalla. She kept trying to find her monster friends, but there was no one there; the unholy citadel was empty aside from some unfinished ark parts. It was as if they'd just up and left, no warning or anything. Had they gone somewhere without her? Had they left her alone to find safety elsewhere?_

_The blonde called for Malroth, but no matter where she went, she couldn't find him. Her heart ached as she thought of what could have happened to her best friend. Was it possible that he was… that he could be dead? Had Hargon taken him away from her permanently?_

_Tears welled up in her eyes and she ran faster, checking every nook and cranny she could, but still, she found no signs of life anywhere. __Thunder rumbled above and the Builder sank to her knees in despair._

_She was alone. For the first time in her life, she was all alone, no one around to talk to. No matter how much she combed the gloomy, wretched landscape in search of someone, anyone, no one was here but her. She was stuck in this place alone, she would _die _in this place all by herself, and the worst part was that she'd failed Malroth._

_Suddenly, a gravitational globule opened up behind her. It began sucking everything in, strange flora and all, and the Builder felt it pulling her in as well. She tried to scream, but no noise escaped her, and as the pull became greater with each passing minute, she realized that she wouldn't be able to save her friends, she wouldn't be able to save Malroth. They were all going to die and _she _was going to die, and their world would fade to nothing. Everything would be destroyed and she'd never get to tell Malroth how sorry she was for allowing Warwick to imprison him in Moonbrooke. All her monster friends had been counting on her to save them from being eradicated and now she would be useless to them_—

"_Hey!_"

The Builder awoke with a strangled cry, jolting forward. After a few minutes of realizing it had just been a dream, that she was awake and safe in her own bed, she felt something warm and wet slide down her cheek. It took her a moment to realize she was crying. When her vision adjusted to the darkness, she also realized Malroth was sitting beside her, concern written all over his features.

Remembering the loneliness of her dream, her face crumpled and she flung her arms around him, the tears coming faster than she could fight them. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy to see him (aside from saving him from Hargon). The destructive man was caught off-guard by the sudden show of affection, but he quickly hugged her back when he heard her sniffle.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

"Leave you? Why would I do that? What were you dreaming about?"

"I was in Malhalla and I couldn't find you, and the other monsters weren't there either, and I was all alone and—"

She collapsed into a fit of wordless sobs. She never wanted to feel that amount of loneliness and despair ever again.

Malroth gently rocked her back and forth, just as the Builder had done for him countless nights when his nightmares got to him. "It was just a dream. I'm not going anywhere, scout's honor."

"You better not."

"I promise I won't."

"Y-you're my best friend, y'know?"

He stroked her hair. "I know. You're my best friend, too."

"I don't ever wanna lose you."

"You won't. I promise you won't."

As the blonde recollected herself, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, she pulled back.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"Oh, shut up," Malroth grumbled. "As if I don't wake _you_ up all the time."

She managed a giggle, and he cracked a smile of his own. Laughter was a good sign.

He grinned. "I know it's not a happy place for you, but Malhalla was pretty badass from what I got to see of it."

The Builder agreed, it _was_ a pretty hardcore realm—or was it a planet?—but it was not a place she remembered fondly… except, of course, the monster friends she'd made. Gremville, Arisplotle, Captain Whitebones, Griswold, N04H, Hellen... She still cared about them and it had relieved her greatly when she received a letter from Captain Whitebones assuring her that they were all okay. It was even more of a relief to have her monster friends, including Molly and the kind monsters from Skelkatraz, join them on the Isle of Awakening. Everyone had made it out safe and sound.

But the heartbreak of not being able to set things right with Malroth after Moonbrooke, the worry of him being taken away, of him hurting and trying to handle everything all by himself when what he really needed was a shoulder to lean on... She hated remembering all those feelings.

"In the dream… No matter where I went, I couldn't find you, our friends, the monsters… I was all alone, and I..."

Her voice cracked and she looked away. Malroth sighed, taking her hand in his.

"It was just a nightmare. I'm not going anywhere and I'm definitely not leaving _you_ anytime soon; who else is gonna build me my Empire of Evisceration?"

She cracked a smile.

"Hargon ain't gonna be bothering us again, and I'm here for as long as everyone needs me. As long as _you_ need me."

The Builder looked up at him shyly. She stared at him for a few moments and he was about to ask her if she was okay when she leaned up and kissed him softly, her lips sweet and warm.

The kiss lasted for maybe a minute, maybe a second. When she went to pull away, sputtering out an apology for having crossed some kind of line, Malroth grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for another kiss, this one much more passionate. When they broke for air, they both felt butterflies and warm fuzzies. The Builder's eyes were still puffy and swollen from crying, but that dopey smile was back, just as it should be. Malroth knew he was grinning like an idiot, too.

They stayed like that for a little while, just looking at each other. The Builder reached up to cup his face and when she did, Malroth gently took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. The action made her blush and giggle, looking down, and Malroth's grin grew even wider.

Outside, they heard a door open and close, followed by the sound of boots treading through wet soil. It had rained through the night, and the Builder and Malroth knew Rosie was always the first farmer awake before the day truly began. That meant it was already morning: the sun would soon be up and there would be more things for the blonde to build, and more monsters for the destructive man to fell.

Yet all of that could wait until later. What mattered was the quiet moment they were sharing right then and there.

The Builder yawned, covering her mouth as she did so, and Malroth settled down beside her. He opened his arms and she happily obliged, snuggling close to him as she always did. He kissed her forehead and she nuzzled her face against his chest affectionately.

"You're so warm," she mumbled, and he chuckled.

"Are you complaining?"

"Never."

"Good. Get some sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

After a little while, he was sure she'd fallen asleep when she spoke up again.

"Hey, Mal?"

He hummed in reply.

"Thanks."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead again, running his fingers through her hair. "Don't mention it."

* * *

"Has anyone seen Malroth or the Builder?" Rosie asked, wiping her brow. It was almost noon and no one had seen either person. They were both usually awake by now, so it was strange not to see either of them up and at 'em.

The other farmers indicated they hadn't seen the blonde or the destructive young man either, and Bonanzo shrugged.

"Maybe they went off adventurin'."

Rosie hummed absentmindedly in response, looking towards the home the two best friends shared. Setting down her hoe, she made her way to the decent-sized house and peeked into the window. She was surprised to find Malroth and the Builder sound asleep in Malroth's bed, both snuggled up to each other in a very intimate position. The destructive young man's arm was around the blonde almost protectively, and the blonde had never looked more at peace than she did in his embrace.

They looked like a couple, and the more the tealette thought about it, they practically _were_ a couple with how close they were. Malroth always remained by the Builder's side, no matter where she went, and the Builder was always touching him in some way, whether it was to hold his hand or hug him. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't together, and they always joked and bickered and ran about like two best friends who were secretly crushing on each other. It was sweet.

Malroth stirred and slowly opened his eyes. Upon realizing who he was holding, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the Builder's forehead, who smiled softly in return. Rosie giggled, lifting a hand to her mouth. She wished she could take a picture of the two; they looked so adorable together.

"What's all the 'ubbub?"

Perry's loud voice made her jump and she immediately whirled on her heel, shushing him. He blinked.

"What? Did you find 'em?"

"They're still sleeping," she explained quietly, motioning towards the window. Perry looked in and narrowed his eyes.

"'Ow come they get to sleep in, but we 'ave to get up at the bleedin' crack o'dawn?"

Rosie reached over and pinched his arm, and he jerked away from her, rubbing the sore skin.

"_Oi_! What was 'at for?!"

"We should let them be. Come on, we have a lot of work to get done today."

With that, she dragged the indignant farmer back to the field, leaving Malroth and the Builder to continue enjoying their morning.

* * *

**Fun fact: I've noticed that whenever I'm building stuff, Malroth does indeed hover close by. Even if I'm high up somewhere, he'll still be hanging around at the bottom of wherever I'm working.**

**I shamelessly headcanon that he enjoys watching the builder build stuff and he's not shy about admitting that. Do with this information what you will :P**


	11. Ivory Keys

**I can't remember who, but someone on the Isle of Awakening remarks about Den teaching Malroth how to play piano.**

**Also, thank you to StormfernOfUnderClan for your reviews! :D**

* * *

_He wouldn't be the master of destruction if he didn't know how to destroy silence._

**Ivory Keys**

It was a boring, rainy day on the Isle of Awakening and no one was doing much of anything. The Builder was away and working on one of the Buildertopia islands, and so Malroth was left to his own devices. He had no idea when she'd be back; she'd mentioned something about creating a floating garden, something about it taking at least a week, maybe a month if she had to get more supplies. Either way, he was _bored_.

The first few days after the Builder had left, Malroth had kept busy by playfully roughhousing with the miners in Scarlet Sands, spending hours at the Cerulean Steppe spa resort, and helping Rosie and the other farmers rid the fields of pesky weeds; he'd even spent time getting to know his monster followers, each of whom still regarded him with awe and admiration despite renouncing their destructive ways.

After helping anyone and everyone who needed help, whether it was lifting heavy stuff, destroying stuff that was in the way of their building new things, or warding off monsters that still wanted to hurt the people on the isle, Malroth found himself with more leisure time than he liked. It wouldn't have been so bad if his best friend were here with him... If anyone asked, he'd deny that he missed her, but deep down, he _did_ miss the bubbly blonde. When she'd left, she took the sun with her literally and figuratively. It hadn't stopped raining since her departure and it left the master of destruction in a sour mood.

Malroth heaved a sigh as he sank further into the spa water. He wondered if maybe the next time she planned to go to one of the Buildertopias, he should ask to accompany her. If she protested, he could argue that she'd need someone to act as overseer, to keep everyone motivated to work hard. Sometimes people gave the Builder trouble, but one glare from him and they'd fall right back into line.

"Mind if I join you?"

Malroth looked up to see Lulu padding towards the edge of the spa, her towel wrapped carefully around herself. Her hair was down for once, pink locks resting around her shoulders in gentle waves.

"Knock yourself out," was his mumbled reply.

As Lulu eased herself into the hot water, she sighed as the tension left her muscles. Neither of them said anything for a little while, both simply enjoying the relaxing vibe of the spa resort. In the connected music hall, a few musicians were playing a lovely piece, Haydin's awful singing thankfully drowned out by the drums and cello. Malroth had been losing himself in the music since he'd arrived there.

"Alright, Malroth, spit it out," Lulu's voice drew him from his inner musings. "What's going on with you? Why do you look so unhappy?"

He couldn't help it. Lulu seemed to bring out his more defensive, argumentative side. "What's going on with _you_?"

"I asked you first!"

"So?"

"So answer the question, dummy."

"Nothing's wrong with me, but _you_, on the other hand..."

Lulu scowled at him. "You're so rude, you know that? Your atrocious attitude wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that the Builder left, would it? Because if so, I shall have to have a long chat with her when she returns!"

Malroth sighed. How was it that the most annoying girl he'd ever met was also one of very few who were able to see right through him?

When he made no move to answer her, she gave a self-satisfied nod. "I figured as much. You're grumpy because you miss her."

He didn't want to admit it aloud; that'd just make him look pathetic. "Look, I just want to be left alone. It's why I came here in the first place."

"Well, I'm not leaving. This is a public spa; if you wanted to be left alone, you should have asked the Builder to make you your own personal spa room."

An awkward silence filled the room, heavy and unpleasant. It made Malroth want to get up and leave, hopefully to find another place to brood that didn't include Lulu's presence, but apparently the pinkette wasn't finished trying to speak to him.

"Just so you know, she'll be back soon," she said, her tone gentler than before. "I miss her, too. It's weird without her around but she'll be back before you know it. You should find something to pass the time, like a hobby or something."

"Like what?" he asked. No hostility lingered in his voice. "All I do is destroy so I can't make anything. What am I supposed to do?"

The pinkette raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me that with everything the Builder has built, you can't find anything to occupy your time?"

Malroth faltered. She had a point; the Builder had created numerous libraries, study rooms, spas, game bars, parks... you name it, she made it. The blonde's specialty was creation just as his was destruction, but with destruction came consequences. Sometimes if Malroth so much as lifted a block, it would crumble even if he tried lifting it with the utmost care. When he'd tried reading a few books in one of the libraries, he'd accidentally torn a few pages out when flipping through it. He was good at darts, he'd beaten quite a few people at cards, and he had no problem playing with some of the adorable cats and dogs that romped around Green Gardens. But what more was there for him to do?

As if answering his unspoken question, Dougie and Digby burst into the spa, both panting and heaving as if they'd been sprinting.

"Told ya... I'd win.." Dougie huffed, promptly falling onto his backside. "Cor blimey... I'm outta shape."

"The 'eck you won," Digby protested. "Me muscles'r bigger'n yours! I ran faster."

"Yer muscles ain't bigger!"

"You wanna bet, mate?"

Before they could start flexing and competing over who indeed had quality quadriceps, Malroth snapped his fingers to grab their attention.

"Did you guys run all the way over here just to race each other?"

"Right, right. Den needs ya," Digby said after he'd caught his breath. "Said 'e needs 'elp with liftin' somefin' heavy, told us to ask if ya were busy."

"Well, look at that," Lulu remarked, smirking at the spiky-haired male. "Now you've got something to do."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Malroth slowly rose and began to wade out of the water, missing its heat once the cool air began to nip at his wet skin. He slunk off towards the changing room to grab his clothes.

"We'll 'ang 'ere and rest for a bit," Dougie said, his eyes widening when he realized just how luxurious the spa was. "Cor, it's right swanky in 'ere. Mind if we join ya?"

Both miners didn't wait for Lulu's answer. They made their way into the changing room, and at the slight whiff of body odor that followed them, her nose scrunched up in disgust. Perhaps _she_ should ask the Builder to make her a personal spa room when the blonde got back...

* * *

"Thanks for yer 'elp, Malroth," Den said with an appreciative smile. "I dunno 'ow the lads would've managed to carry that."

The spiky-haired male grunted as he eased the piano down. Normally, two or more men would've been required to lift the instrument but Malroth wasn't most men. He'd been able to carry it all by himself with little issue. Part of him had wondered why Den hadn't asked some of the miners who were currently sitting on their butts sipping digger's jigger, but he also didn't mind. At least it'd given him something to do.

Once the instrument was safely set in place, Malroth watched Den lift the cover to reveal a set of ivory keys. He noticed the few black keys and tilted his head to the side curiously.

"Hey, Den." At his name, the bartender turned around. "How do you use one of these things?"

"You dunno 'ow to play piano?" It wasn't a question laced with judgment; Den didn't take Malroth for the type to be musically inclined, or to take any interest in music for that matter. He was merely surprised at the young man's curiosity.

When Malroth shook his head, looking somewhat lost yet still eager for an answer, the bartender smiled kindly.

"If ya want to play it, ya press the keys like this," Den instructed. He let his fingers drift over a few keys, earning lovely singular notes. Malroth was surprised at how much he liked the sound of said notes.

"Do you know how to play?"

"Sure do. Me missus used to dance to me piano playin' back when she was still wiv us." After a pause, Den tilted his head to the side. "Would you like me to teach you?"

Malroth nodded.

"Alright. 'Ave a seat and I'll show you the basics." Once the master of destruction had obliged, Den hit a few keys again. He explained how pianos, much like any other instruments, had notes and different chords worked. Malroth listened intently and watched eagerly as the bartender played a few basic songs, totally enchanted by the melodies. This didn't escape Den, who eventually stopped playing.

"Why don't ya give 'er a whirl?" he suggested. "It's easy once you get some practice in."

Malroth hesitated. "Are you sure? What if I break the piano?"

Den chuckled. "I doubt that'll 'appen. Just give 'er a try and if the piano breaks, I'll tell the Builder it was my fault. Go on, give it a try. 'Ere, I'll show you 'ow to play some of the songs I was playin' before."

To start, he began to play a few keys in a set pattern, doing it a few times so that Malroth could get the gist of what the song was supposed to sound like. After Den relinquished the seat to him, Malroth repeated what Den had played, surprise lifting his brows when he realized it sounded _good_. Not only that, but the piano remained intact; it hadn't crumbled under his touch like most things usually did, which was rather encouraging. He'd actually been able to play!

"It ain't so 'ard, is it?" Den grinned.

Before he could show Malroth any other songs, one of the other bartenders entered the room. "Mister Den, sir? I apologize for interrupting, but we've got a lot of customers tonight and we could use your help."

"No problem, I'll be right there." Before Den could bid Malroth farewell, the spiky-haired male suddenly looked up at him shyly. It was not an expression Den was used to seeing on the normally rough-and-tough man; if anything, it reminded him of when Babs was little and would tug on his shirt sleeve to ask him all sorts of questions about the world.

"Hey, do you mind if I stay here and keep practicing?"

The bartender blinked before laughing. It was good to see someone with an interest in music. "Not at all, my boy! I'll be in the bar if you 'ave any questions about the chords. Keep at it and you'll master it; piano playin' can be very relaxin' and it's a good way to take yer mind off things if yer ever worried."

With that, Den left Malroth to continue experimenting with the ivory keys.

* * *

Once Malroth learned a few of the basic songs, fast learner that he was, he approached Den the next day. The bartender had been very busy well until midnight the previous evening, lots of miners and villagers having requested some of his aged digger's jigger, a specialty that only he had been able to perfect. He'd gone to check on Malroth after closing time, but Malroth was no longer sitting at the piano. Figuring he'd gone off to fight monsters or get some shut-eye, Den retired to his home for the evening.

He was just finishing up his breakfast at the nearby restaurant when Malroth approached him. "Morning, Den."

Den beamed. "Malroth! Good mornin' to ya, 'ow goes piano playin'?"

"About that... I was wondering, are there any other songs you can teach me?" Malroth grinned proudly. "I learned the ones you taught me yesterday."

"Is that so?" Den placed his hands on his hips, a humorous twinkle in his eyes. "And if I quizzed ya on said songs, would ya be able to play 'em perfectly?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"You bet yer bottom dollar it is. To the piano!"

They both headed for the musical instrument, Malroth immediately plopping down on the stool. Den rattled off the names of the simple tunes he'd taught him yesterday and, sure enough, Malroth played each and every song perfectly.

Den clapped proudly. "Wonderful! You're a natural, my boy. You weren't kiddin' when you said you'd been practicin'."

"Is this all there is to it?" Malroth looked a little crestfallen. He'd actually been enjoying the challenge of figuring out which keys sounded good together and which ones _didn't_. This wasn't anything like fighting off monsters or solving puzzles, but it was fun in its own right.

"Oh, goddess no." The bartender chuckled. "'Ere, let me take the 'ot seat and I'll show ya 'ow difficult piano playin' can be."

Malroth allowed Den to take his place and watched as the man cracked his knuckles, placed both hands on the ivory keys, and began to play with _both_ hands. The destructive male's jaw dropped as the melody, something vibrant and lively and _complex_, blew his basic knowledge of the instrument out of the water. As Den played, his eyes kept flickering from hand to hand, ensuring he was playing the right notes and remembering the right keys. He played beautifully and once he hit the final note, it was Malroth's turn to clap, eyes wide in amazement.

"That's amazing! Can you show me how to play like that?"

"Sure, but be warned, it won't be easy at first, so don't feel discouraged if you don't get it right away. Things like this take time."

Malroth grinned. "I think I can handle it."

"Alrighty. I'll show ya both parts of a simpler tune, the first song I learned when I was just learnin' 'ow to play more difficult stuff, and then I'll show ya 'ow to bring it all together. Watch closely, yeah?"

Malroth obliged, watching as Den first showed him the chords and allowed him to try to play them. Once he seemed to get the hang of them, Den began to play the main melody. After Malroth was able to learn that as well, Den clasped his hands together.

"Now that you know both parts, bring it all together." The bartender demonstrated playing both hands at the same time, one playing the chords while the other eased into the main melody. He made it look easy, as if anyone could sit down and bang out a beautiful song. However, when Malroth sat down and tried, he immediately realized just how difficult it was. One hand would play the chords, but when he tried to get the other to play the melody, his fingers didn't want to work. He was stuck only playing the chords and he growled in frustration.

"How the heck am I supposed to do this?!"

"It takes a lot o' practice," Den assured. "But the more practice you get, the more you'll get the 'ang of it. If it 'elps, take it one note at a time. Play the chords, keep playing them till yer sick of 'em, and try playing smaller parts of the melody. Play slowly and keep at it."

Malroth did as Den suggested, playing the chords and what he knew of the melody, taking it one note at a time per the older man's instruction. Whenever he became frustrated and wanted to give up, Den kindly encouraged him to keep trying, that it wasn't easy but that that was the fun of learning how to play music.

* * *

The Builder yawned and stretched as she stepped off of Brownbeard's ship. It had been three weeks, almost a month since she'd left the Isle of Awakening and she was glad to be back. While the Buildertopia she'd been working at was now even more beautiful, with a full-fledged floating garden and a village entirely on stilts, the Isle was her home. She enjoyed helping people and she enjoyed building, but part of her hated to be away for so long... Especially when it meant leaving Malroth behind. She'd wanted to invite him, but he always seemed to be content to remain on the island.

After thanking Brownbeard for carting her to and from the Buildertopia, she headed up to Green Gardens where she expected her best friend to come running towards her. He wasn't the hugging type, but he was always up for a high-five. The Builder smiled at that; she could practically already hear that boyish chuckle and the bombardment of questions concerning her trip.

Much to her surprise, however, the tough male was nowhere to be found. No matter where she looked, she didn't spy that familiar spiky ponytail or those bright orange pants. She spied Arisplotle and Gremville relaxing near the waterfall, who immediately brightened at the sight of her.

"Builder!" they cried simultaneously. Arisplotle bounced up to her, wobbling with excitement as he asked, "How was your trip? Did you goo on any interesting adventures?"

"I'm afraid not, but I did get a lot of building done," she replied, offering them both a grand smile. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're ecthellent!" Gremville hopped upwards. "That new thpa you built hath been doing wonderth for my wingth when they get thore."

"Great! I'm happy to hear that," the blonde cheered. Then, "Have either of you seen Malroth, by any chance?"

Gremville shook his head while the metal slime moved in a circle. "He might be in Cerulean Steppe. Last slime I saw him, he was gooing to the spa."

At that, the Builder thanked her friends and ran in the direction of the Isle's snowy settlement. After saying a quick hello to some of the Moonbrookians, she followed the sound of clashing metal, eventually ending up in the training room, where two familiar soldiers were sparring.

Anessa grunted as Zara attacked, their swords clashing harshly. Through their sparring, the violet-haired woman glanced at the Builder as she approached. Her gaze was cold and calculating, but the blonde knew such an intimidating expression wasn't meant for her. Anessa was a woman of war; she was simply in battle mode.

"Builder, how nice to... See you!"

Zara yelped as the violet-haired woman pushed her back, parrying out of the way as Anessa struck at her. The blonde soldier offered a friendly wave to the Builder before returning her attention to the mini-battle at hand.

"Have you guys seen Malroth at all?" the Builder asked. She watched as Zara traded blows with Anessa, the blonde gaining the upper hand more than once. Finally, their swords locked in a stalemate, the general shook her head.

"Nope, haven't... Haven't seen him! _GRAAH_!"

With a burst of energy, Anessa pushed forward, their stalemate temporarily broken as Zara jumped backward just as Anessa struck at her. The Builder decided to let them continue their session, the sound of clanging swords growing fainter as she began her journey towards Scarlet Sands.

* * *

As soon as she entered the warm climate of the desert oasis, she realized she'd been stupid to check everywhere _but_ Scarlet Sands. Malroth had a whole bunch of miners to spar with here. He could spend hours in the massive, luxurious pool, and he could sip digger's jigger to his heart's content. Dougie and Digby often gave the destructive young man a run for his money when they roughhoused, so of course he'd be here. This should've been the first place to look; she mentally face-palmed.

Villagers and miners alike greeted the blonde as she passed them, and she offered a kind wave in return. Just as the Builder was about to head towards the golden bar where she could see Den wiping down the counter, a beautiful melody caught her ear and she paused, listening. It was piano music; someone was playing in the main dance hall where Babs usually taught and performed the Khrumbul-Dun Rhumba. Most of the people were flocking to the pool or the bars, none of them really paying attention to the music that wafted out of the pyramid.

Curious, the Builder headed inside, shocked to see a certain someone sitting at the baby grand piano she'd spent _hours_ crafting and polishing.

Malroth's fingers glided across the keys with poise, like he knew what he was doing. The Builder watched in awe as he coaxed a lovely, lilting song out of the stringed instrument, his eyes flickering between both hands to ensure he was playing correctly. She'd only ever seen him that focused when he was fighting. When he finally finished, hitting the last note softly, she couldn't help but applaud him.

Malroth jumped and whirled around. He hadn't heard anyone sneak up on him, but to his shock and delight, it was just the Builder. She was beaming at him, eyes alight with the same happiness that others often looked at her with after she'd built something. He blushed under her applause.

"I didn't know you played," she commented, sitting next to him on the stool and nudging him playfully. "You're really good."

"Thanks."

"When did you ever learn piano? You never struck me as the musical type."

"Den taught me," he replied. "After I helped him move some stuff, he offered to teach me. I've been practicing for the last two weeks."

"You're a quick learner, then! My mother once tried to get me to learn, but I didn't have the patience for it."

At that, Malroth chuckled, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he quipped, "You, impatient? I had no idea."

"Hey, watch it." She nudged him again, but the grin on her face indicated she wasn't the least bit offended. "Seriously though, you play beautifully. How many songs has he taught you?"

"A few, actually," Malroth admitted. "At first I thought my brain was gonna explode, but I learned them pretty quick."

He wasn't the type to get shy or bashful, but in that moment, his cheeks and the tips of his ears grew a little red, and his smirk became a timid smile.

"Do you want to hear me play more?"

The Builder nodded enthusiastically, and for the rest of the evening, Malroth played his heart out for her.

From then on, the Builder made sure to keep a piano in Greener Gardens, where Malroth continued practicing and performing different songs for all to hear. She never took him for the piano-playing type, but she supposed it made sense that he had an ear for music.

After all, he wouldn't be the master of destruction if he didn't destroy silence.


	12. Just Friends

_Malroth and the Builder are just friends, so why does everyone on the Isle of Awakening seem to think there's something more going on between them?_

**Just Friends**

"We're just friends," Malroth says one night, when Digby and Dougie ask him about the Builder. They're in Scarlet Sands, putting their feet up at Den's brand new gold-brick bar. The place is booming with business and it's a little hard to talk over the music, the chatter, and the clinking of plates, glasses, and silverware. But Malroth's hearing is better than that of a normal human's, so he's able to carry a conversation with the two Khrumbul-Dunnians. Perks of being a god... Well, _ex_-god, nowadays.

His blonde best friend is not here; she's actually having a girls' night in Cerulean Steppe with the leading ladies of the Isle of Awakening. Malroth doesn't like being away from her for too long, but he knows she deserves time to herself. Besides, one night away isn't going to kill him, and he's happy to hang out with the miners since they aren't afraid to spar with him. In Hellen's terms, they're hooligans just like he is, so he's not too beaten up over the Builder being away.

"Oh, c'mon, mate," Digby huffs. "Ya mean there's nuffin' goin' on between you and the Builder?"

"As far as what?" Malroth asks, taking a hearty sip of his drink. "We don't think of each other like that. She's my best friend and that's all there is to it, nothing more or less."

Dougie shakes his head. "I coulda sworn you two 'ad a thing goin' on. She practic'ly makes googly eyes at ya."

The master of destruction chuckles at that. "That's a pretty astute observation, but that's just her face."

"Yer absolutely sure she don't have feelin's fer ya?"

"Positive."

"If you say so." Digby takes a swig of his digger's jigger and sighs. "I'm jus' glad the Builder ain't makin' goo-goo eyes at Babs."

"Yeah! The Builder may be pretty an' all, but I'm the one who'll win Babs' heart!" Dougie lifts his own drink to the air, a few drops sloshing over the edges. As he and Digby begin to argue over who Babs will ultimately choose, Magrog piping up with an, "Oh no, you ain't!" a few tables over, Malroth allows himself to fade into the background a bit.

He thinks about the Builder, about her bright blue eyes, dopey smile, pretty blonde hair, and her perpetually sunny demeanor. She's a pretty girl, but she's also his friend. _Best_ friend. He _doesn't_ feel that way about her, does he?

"What's it feel like, anyway?"

At Malroth's question, both miners pause in their halfhearted bickering and return their attention to him.

"Whaddya mean?"

"When you have feelings for someone, what's it like? Have you ever felt it before?"

Dougie nods. "For Babs, yeah. It's like bein' on a cloud."

"No it ain't." Digby playfully elbows him. "It's more like feelin' all 'appy whenever you see 'em. And you don't love Babs, Dougie, not as much as I do, any'ow."

"The 'eck I don't!" They're about to tussle when Malroth intervenes.

"Guys, I'm serious. If you had to describe it... What exactly does love feel like?"

Both miners exchange a glance that Malroth isn't sure how to interpret, but before he can repeat himself, Digby speaks up.

"When you like someone, you'd do anythin' for 'em."

"Anything?"

"Even give yer life for theirs," Dougie adds. "An' you like seein' 'em smile, they make you feel all funny inside."

Malroth raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Funny, how?"

"I'unno. Warm fuzzies, I guess." Digby shrugs. He's never been good with words, but nevertheless, it makes Malroth think.

"And you consider that love, right? You feel warm fuzzies around someone and you like seeing them happy?" he asks. The miner nods before taking a hearty gulp of his digger's jigger.

"There's more to it than that," Dougie states. "But basically, yeah. When ya love someone, you feel warm fuzzies, you like seein' 'em 'appy, and you'd do anyfin' to keep 'em safe."

Malroth taps his fingers against the table's surface thoughtfully. How _does_ he feel about the Builder? Would "warm fuzzies" accurately describe what he feels like whenever he's around her?

_..._

_Nah. Doesn't even come close._

Before their conversation can continue, two miners a few tables over begin to roughhouse, causing a slight scene. It's playful, of course; that's just what they do when they get a few too many drinks in their systems, and they never actually mean each other harm. But they do stumble and knock over one of the tables, and Den shares a glance with Malroth that the destructive young man immediately understands. He ends up being the one to boot the two parties out of the bar. He picks both of them up by their shirt collars with ease, ignoring their indignant protests, and escorts them out, Den shaking his head in amusement.

"D'you reckon 'e really don't 'ave feelin's for the Builder?" Digby asks, and Dougie lets out an impressive burp after taking a large swig of his drink.

"I'unno, but as long as neither of 'em go after Babs, it ain't really my business."

* * *

"Okay, spill."

It's girls' night and the spa resort is cozy against the frigid winds of Cerulean Steppe. It's been snowing on and off all day, and after trudging through snow to get to the spa, the Builder is happy to soak in the hot water.

Well, she normally _would_ be, anyway. The leading ladies of the Isle of Awakening are wearing mischievous expressions that make her shrink back, wondering what they're plotting.

"Spill what?"

"You don't 'ave to be all shy," Babs teases. "Tell us about you an' Malroth."

The Builder blinks. "What about us?"

"Oh, come off it. _Surely_ you've seen how he looks at you," Lulu pipes up matter-of-factly. Anessa and Rosie giggle softly at the mention of the destructive man's name, and even Babs is grinning like a cat that got the cream.

The Builder squints at the pinkette. "Wait, you think we're _dating_?"

"Well, yes! He's always making moon eyes at you, so what's the deal? Are you two together?"

The Builder isn't sure what to say. Somehow, the other ladies have rendered her speechless. It's only when she's able to recover a fraction of her mental faculties enough to squeak out an uncertain "no?" that they pounce.

"So you ARE dating!" Anessa giggles, her usual stoic-soldier act absent in favor of her inner girly-girl. "I cannot say I'm surprised. You both seem to be very close."

"Come to think of it," Lulu taps her chin thoughtfully. "Malroth _does_ still follow her around all the time. Have you ever noticed how he magically appears wherever she goes?"

"Back in Scarlet Sands, she was working on that railroad for the miners, way 'igh up in the mountains," Babs adds. "An' Malroth always managed to find 'er, even if no one told 'im where she was."

"Malroth follows her around like a Furrowfield retriever," Rosie chimes in, giggling behind her hand. "I think it's cute! They make a great team and I think they would make an even cuter couple."

"No way, it's not like that at all! We're just friends!" The Builder lifts both her hands up in a defensive motion, her face flaming. "Seriously, there's nothing going on between us."

Rosie and Babs exchange a knowing look. Maybe Anessa and Lulu are suspicious of the Builder's relationship with the destructive young man, but they've seen more than enough evidence of him having feelings for the blonde. The Builder isn't fooling them and the blush on her face is pretty damning.

"You're sure?" Lulu doesn't look convinced. "He's constantly staring at you and he hovers anytime you're working on new projects. Haven't you ever wondered why he sticks so close to you?"

"He likes to watch me build stuff," the blonde explains. "You know building isn't his strong suit, and besides, I'm not going to ask him why he constantly hangs around me. Don't you think that would hurt his feelings?"

Lulu frowns. _F__air point._

"I do like having him around," the Builder admits, instantly causing the other girls to perk up, and she quickly finishes with, "But we're just friends right now."

And that's all Lulu needs to quip, "Yeah, for 'right now.'"

"That may change," Anessa agrees. "Malroth does have a soft spot for you. Anytime we've been in battle and you were injured, he always ran after you to ask if you were alright. If you were incapacitated, he'd fight twice as hard and heft you back to safety as soon as he could. Anytime you were down for the count, he stayed by your side until you were back to full health. I don't recall him doing that for any of my soldiers or even _me_, for that matter. Only you."

"I think 'e likes 'er a lot more than 'e'd ever say aloud," Babs chimes in. For once, her hair is down around her shoulders, messy curls damp from the hot water and steam around them. "'E doesn't seem like the type to be lovey-dovey, but I could be wrong."

"We've been talking about Malroth, but how do _you_ feel about him?" Rosie asks, the most merciful out of their group. The Builder knows the farmer means well, but the other ladies are suddenly watching her very closely. _Again_. Her reaction could confirm what they suspect, after all.

The blonde clears her throat. Suddenly, it feels a little _too_ hot in the spa. She wonders if maybe she should've opened a window before getting into the water. With all eyes on her, she wonders if it wouldn't be a bad idea to say the steam was making her light-headed and to hightail it back home. As if she'd read her friend's mind, Lulu narrows her eyes. The Builder gulps.

_There's no escape!_

"Well, I think..." The girls watch her eagerly. "I think he's my best friend and that's all. I don't think he looks at me like that."

They all fight a groan.

"But we're talking about _you_," Lulu reminds her. "How do _you_ feel about him?"

_How do I feel about Malroth? That's easy._

"He's my best friend. What else should I feel?"

No one knows what to say to that. They all suspect that there's a spark between Malroth and the Builder, but no one can tell her how or what she should be feeling. Even Lulu begins to back off, and the conversation switches to how prosperous the Isle of Awakening is becoming.

* * *

It's a complete surprise when the monster crew approaches the Builder one day while she's spending her afternoon in Green Gardens. She's sitting on one of the benches and spacing out, the skies blue and beautiful as they usually are. She has to admit, though, ever since Malroth made everything real, the skies are much prettier and much bluer than before. She could spend hours just watching the clouds.

"Builder," Hellen's voice rings out, catching the blonde girl's attention. "We'd like to have a word with you."

"What's up?" the human asks. "Do you guys need me to fix something for you? I left my tools up at the house, but I can run and grab them if you need something."

"No, that will not be necessary," the wrecktor assures. "It is about our dear lord, Master Malroth. We would like to inquire about the nature of your relationship with him."

The Builder wonders if she'll ever catch a break. Lately, everyone's asking about her and Malroth. "Sure, what would you like to know?"

"Are you two a couple?" Gremville blurts. "Becauthe you two are awfully clothe."

"Master Malroth always gooes on about you whenever I see him," Arisplotle adds. "Everyone can see you two are goo friends, but we were wondering if something more was gooing on."

"Well, I hate to disappoint, but that's all we are." The Builder smiles, silently hoping that this will be the last interrogation she has to face. "We're friends. Nothing more, nothing less."

Gremville and Arisplotle are willing to accept this answer, but the others are still suspicious. Griswold, Gottfried, Molly, the hammerhood, Splodger, and Hellen look anything but convinced, but they decide not to press her, which she's grateful for.

"You sure, Builder?" Captain Whitebones scratches at his skull. "I could've sworn you two were a thing."

"We're just friends. That's all." And with that, the Builder politely excuses herself to head to Lillian's restaurant. She's not really hungry and she does enjoy her friends' company, but if another person asks about her and Malroth, she's sure she'll go bonkers.

* * *

"For goddess' sake, we're just friends! Give it a rest!"

"Don't give me that rubbish!"

Lulu stomps her foot when Malroth utters the phrase for what feels like the millionth time since people have started approaching him about his relationship with the beloved Builder. What is it with them, anyway? Why are they so concerned about his and the Builder's relationship? It's honestly none of their business, but because they're his friends, the closest thing he's ever had to a family, he lets it slide. But he can only let it slide for so long before he finally snaps, and Lulu is, unfortunately, wearing his patience thin.

"Seriously, Lulu, would you drop it already? I already told you: we're. Not. Dating."

"I will _not_ drop it! You two are my best friends and I deserve to know if you're courting or not!"

Malroth places his hands on his hips and scowls at the pinkette. "If the Builder and I are courting, that's our business, not yours. Sorry not sorry."

She pauses. "Wait, are you saying that you _are_ together?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying you need to stop hounding me."

In typical Lulu fashion, her ire returns. "I am _not_ hounding you!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"What you're doing right now? That's hounding."

"Because you won't tell me whether or not you're dating my best friend!"

Malroth's scowl deepens. "Because it's none of your business!"

"Then why not just say you aren't dating?"

"Because anytime I _do_ say that, you argue with me! You're impossible!"

"Because you two act like a couple and look like one!" Lulu fires back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Friends don't look at friends the way you two look at each other! How can you sit there and tell me you don't like her like that when you clearly do?"

Malroth sighs. His patience is beginning to reach its limit. "What's the big deal anyhow? Why does it matter if we're close friends or dating?"

His question gives Lulu pause. She blinks, opening her mouth to say something, then falters.

"I suppose it doesn't."

"Then why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? Why do _you_ keep making a big fuss about it?"

"I can't speak for them," she admits. "But _I_ wanted to know because I'm close with both of you. If anyone deserves to know about you two, it's me!"

_So Lulu is just being nosy. Figures._

"Alright, fine. Just between you and me, to tell you the honest truth..." Malroth looks around first, then motions for Lulu to come closer. The pinkette eagerly obliges, and Malroth places his hand close to his mouth like he's about to tell her a big secret.

"The Builder and I..." he whispers, and she nods encouragingly. This is it, he's finally going to tell her that he's in love with the Builder, and she'll start planning their dates, eventually the wedding and the bridal shower, and the cake, decorations, it'll be a truly exquisite, beautiful affair, and—

"...Are just friends and nothing more."

Lulu's eager curiosity morphs into frustration. She shoves at him and he laughs.

"You are SO infuriating!" She stomps off with a huff, her side ponytail bouncing as she goes. Malroth chuckles to himself.

Lulu would probably be back to pester him again at some point, but at least he's won this round.

* * *

The following week, Malroth doesn't get to see the Builder other than a few moments where they exchange a quick hello. She's busy with some new project and he finds himself training a few new soldiers in Cerulean Steppe. The threat of monsters is gone and has been ever since Hargon was defeated, but it's still a good idea to make sure everyone stays in tip-top shape.

It feels weird to not have the bubbly blonde around. They've spent countless days and nights together, both during their adventures and while on the Isle of Awakening, so when she's not by his side, he feels like something's missing. It throws him off a little, even to the point where when he and Zara spar, Zara manages to get him pinned to the ground, a feat not easily achieved when Malroth is the opponent.

So when he hears that the Builder's finally finished and on her way back to her house, he drops everything, makes up some excuse to Anessa about not being able to train the soldiers the following morning, and hurries back to Green Gardens. It's nighttime when he gets there and all the lights are off in her house, but he knocks quickly, hoping she's still awake. Knowing her, she hasn't been sleeping enough, so he wouldn't be surprised if she was catching up on rest. To his surprise and delight, she opens the door after a few more knocks, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

Time stops for a moment as they look at each other. Malroth's expression is tender and sweet as his eyes roam her face, and the Builder's wearing her usual dopey grin, though she also appears uncharacteristically shy. As soon as he's safely inside and the door is closed, she pulls him into a hug and he returns it, holding her flush against him.

"Hi." Her voice is quiet and filled with warmth, and Malroth chuckles as he buries his face into her hair. She must have just finished taking a bath because the damp locks stick to his face. She smells like soap and faintly of wildflowers, and it's a scent he burns into his memory.

"Hey." His own voice is deep, but not its usual volume. He never speaks gently with anyone like he speaks with her when it's just the two of them.

After a few moments, Malroth pulls back to look at her again. He's wearing a boyish grin; the Builder has seen him happy before, but now he looks almost bashful. There's something sweet lighting up his eyes that makes butterflies stir in her belly, and then he's cupping her face and kissing her.

She giggles and winds her arms around his neck, the kiss deepening once his tongue swipes across her bottom lip. Soon, he's managed to back her against the edge of the bed. It all becomes a blur of hands and kisses and touches. Malroth hates being away from her for long periods of time, so he's making up for lost time, and she's all too happy to return the favor. She's missed him, too.

The Builder ends up on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. They're both still clothed, of course, but they like being close like this. It's the beginning of summer so she's only in a cotton tank top and shorts (he's certainly not complaining); he, in turn, is only wearing his usual harem pants and his bone necklace, his jacket left at his house.

"We're just friends, right?" Malroth whispers, his lips hovering over the Builder's. He feels her smile at their private joke.

Everyone on the isle is suspicious that they're more than friends—after all, friends truly _don't_ look at each other the way _they_ look at each other, nor do friends _kiss_—but they like to keep things mostly platonic in public. They're both already in the spotlight enough as it is. They love their friends and they enjoy spending time with them, but they know that as soon as they do go public, everyone will be in their business. It's easier to keep a low profile for now; it's easier to enjoy this new love without the hassle of others putting their two-cents in at every turn.

And that's the best part: what Malroth and the Builder have _is_ love. She loves everything about him, destructive tendencies and all. He's handsome, he's a hell of a warrior on the battlefield, he can be funny, witty, caring... And Malroth, in turn, knows everything about her. He's seen her at her best and her worst, and he still thinks she's beautiful. He cheers her on even when no one else is around and he offers her a shoulder to lean on when she's not feeling very confident. No matter what has happened between them in the past, they care for each other deeply. They _love_ each other.

Malroth has struggled to understand the concept of love. Even after their adventures, his idea of romantic love is still fuzzy at best, but the Builder is teaching him _very_ well, and half the time she doesn't even know it. They support and care for each other; when the Builder is working on a new blueprint, she often forgets to eat, so Malroth makes sure to bring her food throughout the day. When Malroth has nightmares about being under Hargon's control, she is right there beside him, waking him up, holding him close, and comforting him when he feels vulnerable. Holding hands, heartfelt conversations, flirty little winks, smiles, and glances, hugs around the waist... Things like that initially took getting used to, but with the Builder, it comes naturally. In fact, he _loves_ physical affection; he loves kisses and hugs and he _loves_ making the Builder whine and whimper in the best ways when he gets her alone.

What he feels for her goes far beyond the "warm fuzzies" that Digby and Dougie were talking about; she is his other half, the light to his dark, the creation to his destruction. He's been her protector ever since they met, yes, but now it's different: she's _his_ to protect, _his_ to kiss and hug, _his_ woman to call his own. She owns his heart and anytime he so much as looks at her, warmth blooms in his chest. If love is protecting those you care about at the risk of your own well-being, then Malroth is pretty far down the rabbit hole when it comes to loving the Builder. He would gladly give his life for hers without a second thought.

During the day, they're "just friends" and they keep the physical affection to a minimum. Malroth does his own thing, wandering aimlessly around the Isle while occasionally stopping to hang out with some of their friends, and the Builder tends to whatever requests may come her way. Sometimes they can't help themselves and they purposely stick close to each other, exchanging a wink, a smile, or a brief kiss when no one's looking. If luck is really on their side and no one is around, Malroth will hold her around the waist or tug her onto his lap while she goes over blueprints. He loves holding her close; she's safest in _his_ arms, after all. Sometimes, when they're alone, the Builder will surprise him by backing him against a tree or a wall and kissing him senseless. She can be shy when it comes to physical affection, but he brings out the boldness in her, and it's thrilling when she takes charge over him.

During the night, Malroth sneaks over to her house, which is easy considering she's right next door. She lets him in and then, once the door is closed, anything goes.

Some nights, he holds her close and they just spend time cuddling, enjoying each other's company. The Builder will snuggle up to him and he'll rest his chin on top of her head, and she'll talk about her day or he'll ask her how different projects are coming along. They'll reminisce about their first meeting, all the things they've been through, and they'll discuss the future. Usually those nights end with the Builder kissing him sweetly. His affection tends to be a little rough, but hers is sweet and gentle, which soothes him and makes him love her all the more.

Other nights, Malroth pins her against the door the moment it's closed, his lips on hers in a fierce kiss while she presses her body against his. They kiss as if they can't get enough of each other. These are the nights that Malroth really enjoys because while he isn't afraid of telling the Builder he loves her, he's better at _showing_ his love_. _When he's with her during the day, he keeps it innocent, but at night, when they're in her small home, she is his in every single way, watchful eyes be damned, and he makes sure she feels _every_ _bit_ of his love for her.

Malroth and the Builder have already agreed they'll go public when they want to. It's not an issue of shame or pride; Malroth is proud to call the Builder his own, and vice versa, but for now, sneaking around together is thrilling... Even though they're pretty sure the whole island already knows what they're up to. They both know they're kind of obvious. Malroth can't help himself; when he looks at the Builder, he feels warm and happy, and he can't help it that it shows all over his face. He loves watching her build things. He loves looking at her because goddess, she really is a beautiful girl, inside and out. Having her around makes him feel at peace because that way, he can protect her and ensure no harm comes to her.

The Builder, in turn, can't help but grin like an idiot whenever she sees her best friend-slash-love. She blushes a lot around him and he gives her butterflies like no one else ever has, yet she's never felt more at home with anyone like she does with Malroth. Much like he stays close to her and tends to gravitate towards wherever she goes, she likes hanging out wherever he is. She likes seeing him smile, laugh, even when he gets ready to knock a monster into next week—everything about him makes her feel giggly, happy, and proud to call him hers.

"Just friends," she whispers back, gasping when Malroth's fangs brush a sensitive spot on her neck. As he nibbles and sucks on the tender skin, she closes her eyes and her head lolls to the side to give him more access. He takes full advantage of it, leaving a brand new hickey close to the previous spot he'd been working on last week. It's a good thing she's always worn scarves; Malroth seems to have an obsession with leaving little marks on her to display that she's his, and if she suddenly started wearing scarves, everyone would be suspicious, and to be fair, they're _already_ suspicious. Seeing hickeys on her neck would merely be the evidence Lulu needs to publicly prove they're together. The Builder could always scarf down medicinal herbs to make the hickeys disappear, but she doesn't feel the need to do so. Besides, Malroth is just gonna leave more the next time they're intimate, so what's the point?

He takes his time trailing kisses up to her lips, one of his hands rubbing her lower back. Malroth playfully nips at her nose and she giggles. When he finally does lean in to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, a tiny moan escapes her. She shivers as his hands find their way up her shirt to caress her smooth skin. They tried to convince themselves that they were trying to take things slow, but with how much Malroth enjoys physical affection, that excuse went right out the window. Not that the Builder minds, of course; he's a wonderful lover, very gentle and attentive when the moment calls for it. They feel like they've known each other forever and they understand each other extremely well, no words ever necessary, so intimacy comes naturally.

When they've had their fill of kissing and little touches and they're able to think clearly again, Malroth asks, "So, how many people have been asking you about us?"

The blonde sighs. "Too many. I think if one more person asks me about us, I'll go crazy."

"Same. Lulu's been giving me the silent treatment for the past few days since I gave her the slip. She usually only ignores me for a day when she's mad at me, but now we're on day three. I think that's a new record for her."

"She hasn't been talking to me much either, especially not since girls' night. I'm pretty sure everyone knows we're together, they're just waiting for us to confirm it."

Malroth takes her delicate hand into his own rough, calloused one, intertwining their fingers together. The lighting in the room is dim, but they can see each other well enough. They share a smile as he brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

"When do you think we should tell everyone?" she asks. She doesn't mind their relationship becoming public, but she hadn't wanted Malroth to feel anxious or pressured in any way. He isn't the type to get anxious often, if ever, but this is his first relationship. Their friends have good intentions, but they may try to offer their two-cents where it's not needed. She doesn't want him to ever feel like he's not good enough for her or that he doesn't fit the definition of a "perfect" boyfriend when he's fine just the way he is.

"I don't really care when, just as long as they know that you're mine. _All_ mine." He lowers her so that she's on her back, his toned body hovering over her as he playfully nips at her neck. His hands run down her body, gripping her hips as he begins to trail kisses down her neck towards her chest. Her breath hitches when his hands move to ease the straps of her tank top down, heat pooling in her belly as she realizes tonight is going to be one of _those_ nights.

"Just friends" definitely don't go this far, yet Malroth and the Builder wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

A few days later, Malroth and the Builder are working on a relaxation room. Okay, so the _Builder_ is working on a relaxation room; Malroth is supervising, sitting pretzel-style while he watches her toss up walls and organize furniture like nobody's business. When she's finished, she comes to stand beside him, admiring her handiwork.

"What do you think?" she asks, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I hope this suits their needs. I know Digby's been asking for a relaxation room since I put up that new gold bar for Den, but I haven't had the time until now to actually do it."

No one is around, so Malroth stands and wraps his arms around her from behind, pulling her into his chest. Butterflies fill the Builder's belly as he rests his chin on her shoulder.

"I think you're amazing," he murmurs close to her ear. "This room looks pretty great. Everyone's gonna love it."

The Builder turns around to face him, moving her arms up around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. She feels him grin against her, and to tease him, she nibbles on his bottom lip, earning a playful growl from the tough young man. The kiss is about to become more heated when an indignant screech pierces the air.

"I _KNEW_ IT!"

The Builder and Malroth jump, both spinning on their heels to see Lulu, Babs, Anessa, and Rosie pressed up against the window in an almost comical way. They look like they've been spying for a while, just waiting for the two "friends" to prove they're more than just platonically involved. Behind them are the Ark crew, the Furrowfielders, Khrumbul-Dunnians, and Moonbrookians. Everyone's there, all wearing knowing grins, some offering cheers and wolf whistles. Malroth sighs in irritation while the blonde simply giggles, her face growing warm at being caught. She supposes it was only a matter of time.

"Come on." She takes his hand into hers and suddenly, the scowl on his face eases into tenderness. His ruby red gaze meets her own blue one, and they both share a soft smile. "Now that they know, we might as well face the music."

In the background, they can hear the girls squealing and giggling and gushing over them (even Anessa is allowing herself to fangirl), with Lulu getting ready to unleash an earful towards Malroth for lying to her. Before they can actually walk outside, Malroth squeezes the Builder's hand gently. She turns to him and sees that he's searching her face, trying to gauge what she's feeling.

"You sure you're ready to face them?"

She knows what he's really asking.

_Is this okay with you?_

"I'm ready if you are," she replies, and he gives an affirmative nod. He's proud to call her his and he doesn't mind everyone knowing about them. He just hadn't wanted her to feel pressured or anxious in any way.

As if sensing his thoughts, the Builder smiles. "Besides, I think it's finally time the entire Isle knows that you're officially mine." She places a chaste kiss on Malroth's lips and he offers her a devilish smirk of his own as she murmurs, "_All_ mine."


	13. Creation vs Destruction

**I edited the absolute fudge out of this one cuz I love the idea behind it. I feel like "Evil Malroth" is an interesting concept to toy with. He's super, super strong, so what if he _had_ switched sides? What if the Builder had to fend for herself?**

**This oneshot doesn't really go super deep into this idea (at least, I don't think it does, but I could be wrong) and I say with complete honesty I dunno how much justice I do this particular idea (or even this pairing, for that matter!), but hey, maybe it'll turn into a full-fledged story one day. Who knows?**

* * *

_AU: What if after Moonbrooke, Malroth's hurt and anger spiraled out of control? What if he switched sides?_

**Creation vs. Destruction**

He didn't hate the Builder.

Actually, he quite liked her. At her core, she was a good person and she tried to help everyone and anyone she met, even if it was at her own expense. Malroth couldn't begin to count how many nights the Builder went without sleep or a hot meal in order to finish building stuff for the others. He admired how selfless she was, and he knew it was because of her selflessness that she tended to be on the skinny side, with bags under her eyes despite her sunny demeanor. Yet despite being exhausted and hungry, she took on every request with a smile. Her work was a labor of love and she never complained, no matter how specific or frustrating the task might be.

The very first day he'd met her, he hadn't understood why she allowed Lulu to boss them around. Malroth had no problem standing up to the pink-haired girl, but the Builder didn't seem to mind the bossiness. She didn't even seem to mind Lulu's haughty tone, something that had personally irritated him. He'd grown to have a deep respect for how patient the blonde was. He knew he could stand to learn a lot from her, his own pride be damned.

Malroth couldn't forget all the times he'd carried her to safety after a battle gone wrong. Watching her fight made him nervous; she wasn't a horrible fighter, but put enough monsters in front of her or a monster with true strength, and she wouldn't stand a chance. Malroth took it upon himself to protect her because it felt right to do so, to protect creation while he destroyed whatever tried to destroy _her_. It was something he couldn't explain; his instincts drove him to keep her safe and ensure she had everything she needed, right down to food and getting enough rest. He was sure that, if not for him, she'd work herself right into an early grave; one of his greatest points of pride was being able to persuade her to take moments for herself to eat, catch up on sleep, and to do something for herself that didn't involve building. Anyone else could tell the Builder she needed to eat more, but Malroth actually had sway over her decisions. If he was telling her it was time to get food, she may protest a little, but she always gave in. She _listened_ to him. They were just that close; she trusted him with her life and he trusted her with everything else.

No, he didn't hate the Builder. How could he hate someone he cared deeply about?

And yet... Things were different now. Back in Moonbrooke, that tainted land where bitter betrayal lurked around every corner, she'd allowed Warwick to throw him in that cell. How could she leave him there to rot, only to let him out when they suddenly needed his help? What kind of friend did that? Malroth had done so much for her, he'd put his life on the line countless times without a second thought, and for what? For her to be suspicious of him when he was really the only one she could trust? The Builder had been so quick to turn on him, just like the others, and all because he looked and behaved differently. There was nothing wrong with the way he was. He saved so many lives, he protected each and every island they set their feet on, didn't that count for _anything_?

_"Lulu, tell me... Can she and I... Can creation and destruction ever really get along?"_

_"I don't understand," the pinkette's eyes were, for once, filled with genuine concern. She was _worried_ about him. He'd hated her when they first met, and now she was concerned over his well-being. He didn't know how to feel about that. Was it really concern, or pity? "You two have had so many wonderful adventures together. If that doesn't answer your question, I don't know what will. And if you're still not sure, you should ask the Builder. She'll help you, I just know she will."_

Malroth's mind was hazy, muddled, and tingly. Something was truly wrong with him, he could _feel_ it. Ever since before they set off for Khrumbul-Dun, there'd been a voice in his head, claiming he was the Master of Destruction, claiming that he needed to continue looking after the Builder. At first, it had been a nuisance, but now it was downright painful; his brain felt like it was going to explode, and all he could do was rest on the ground, curled up in the fetal position as lightning wracked through his skull.

The Isle of Awakening was growing darker and darker until all he could see was inky nothingness. His body felt weightless; he had no idea what was happening to him, but he didn't even have the strength to be scared. All he could focus on was the incessant whispering of that accursed voice, the voice that claimed he was the Master of Destruction, that destruction led to salvation.

He tried picturing the Builder. He tried thinking about all the good times they'd shared: all those nights at the Khrumbul-Dun bar sipping digger's jigger after a long day in the mines, the harvest festival in Furrowfield after working tirelessly to grow vegetables, even... Even felling the high-ranking monster generals in Moonbrooke. The celebratory high fives, the smiles, her adorable laughter, sitting on the bench in Skelkatraz together...

But in thinking about her, all those good times seemed tainted now. The Builder didn't actually care about him at all, did she? She'd turned on him just like the others, she made him look into that damned mirror even when he'd begged her not to. Malroth didn't have anything to hide and she should've trusted him. When everyone else was ready to have him locked away, she should've been the one shoulder he could lean on... yet she wasn't.

_"You've always been there for her, right? I'm sure she'd be only too happy to do the same for you."_

_..._

_Liar._

She'd let him down. In his hour of need, she'd left him alone. Alone with the voice that kept getting louder and more sinister, which, if he was being honest, was making him uneasy. How could he ever listen to a voice that suggested ending Lulu's life? He and the spoiled young woman bickered often, but no matter how annoying she could be, he would never want anything bad to happen to her; especially not now, after getting to know her.

Ever since he'd first opened his eyes on the Isle of Awakening, no memory of his life before winding up on the isle's shores, there had always been a darkness deep inside of him. The voice hadn't started bugging him until after Furrowfield, but at his core, he enjoyed destruction and chaos and fighting. Even more disturbing was his love for the power one could lord over people, the utter control... there was something so _satisfying_ about it. He'd had control and power over Bonanzo and Perry, two sniveling weaklings who followed their stomachs above anything else, but that had been different; Perry and Bonanzo needed to be kept in check, Bonanzo more than Perry. The bushy-bearded man could easily abuse power if it came his way; Malroth could see him becoming a very corrupt politician if given the chance, and luckily, others saw it, too, so he was relegated power over crops, something harmless and something that kept him from accessing true, dangerous power, the kind of power that Malroth himself possessed.

If he really wanted to, he could take over the entire Isle of Awakening and make everyone do his bidding. He had the strength of twenty Khrumbul-Dun miners, after all; who exactly could oppose him? And who _would_?

But... No... That wasn't right... They were his friends, weren't they? Everyone there... _They were his friends_. He'd eaten, slept, and fought beside each and every person from Furrowfield, Moonbrooke, and Khrumbul-Dun. They all respected him and treated him like a hero, and he _was_ a hero! He'd saved so many people, he'd worked tirelessly to help the Builder save countless lives and restore hope to so many crestfallen faces. In a way, everyone here was like one big happy family, all working together to create a new home where happiness and freedom reigned. They cared about Malroth just as much as he cared about them, and as upset as he was with the Builder, he still cared about her, too.

_"She left you in your time of need. Would a true friend really do that?"_

"No, but..." Malroth's voice sounded distant and muddled to his own ears, like he was trying to speak underwater.

_"It is nearly time..."_ The voice that had haunted him since before Khrumbul-Dun was no louder than a whisper, yet it seemed to boom throughout his skull. _"Time for You to realize Your true potential as the Master of Destruction!"_

_But I'm not..._ His head ached something fierce and he fought to keep himself conscious. The more Malroth tried to think of his friends, the more the darkness began dragging him under. Their faces became twisted, their smiles malicious, their words and intentions jagged. The last thing he heard was thunder rumbling overhead, and then it all went black.

_"You said it yourself, my Lord... She has no need for You. She is a Builder, and all You do is destroy... Creation and destruction can never be friends. You know what You must do. Awaken, O mighty Malroth... Awaken and satisfy Your thirst for destruction!"_

* * *

"I'm worried about Malroth," the Builder admitted. Lulu poured the blonde a cup of tea, holding up the sugar bowl in silent offering. The Builder politely declined with a shake of her head, and Lulu filled her own teacup before placing the teapot down.

"He isn't himself," she agreed. "I'm not sure what's going on with him, but it isn't good. He looked sickly the last time I saw him."

The Builder stared into the light brown depths of her tea. She knew she looked rather sickly herself; Anessa, Rosie, Babs, and even Lulu had approached her within the last two days to inquire about her health. She didn't smile anymore and the bags under her eyes indicated she hadn't had a proper night's rest in, well, forever. Her appetite had nearly ceased altogether; it took Lillian literally shoving a plate of spaghetti and fresh bread under her nose for her to eat something after unconsciously fasting since they'd returned to the Isle of Awakening from their expedition on Moonbrooke. That had been a week ago. Since then, occasionally snacking on kelp wasn't cutting it, but the Builder didn't have much room in her stomach for food when she was already full of guilt. All she wanted to do was finish up the castle that Anessa and the others wanted, and then she'd be free to search for Malroth. Then she could try to make things right.

When Brownbeard had first mentioned Moonbrooke, they'd been excited. New friends, new building tasks, new problems to solve; something told them this was going to be the biggest adventure they'd faced and they were itching to see what lay in store on the new island. The Builder couldn't remember the last time she'd seen snow and it was Malroth's first time ever experiencing such weather. It was amazing to think how the king, Anessa, Warwick, and Gerome had been shivering in that hole in the marble wall when they'd first met, and when they left, the king's castle had not only been restored, but it was better than ever. The king went from having three subjects to three hundred, practically overnight. The Builder became more adept at building and Malroth became much more powerful than ever before.

...And then the adventure turned into a nightmare. Slowly but surely, Malroth and the Builder began to grow apart. At first, they were as close as ever, Malroth constantly expressing his excitement over the fact that they were in a war zone. Fighting was his forte and he couldn't wait to get his fill of dominating on the battlefield. Then, as time went on and the others became more and more impressed by the Builder's skills, requesting various weapons to push back enemy forces, Malroth began to grow distant. He often remarked how her weapons were great, but they only went so far; what mattered were the ones willing to fight after the weapons had done their job of weakening opponents. He was correct, of course, but how could he think she was trying to replace him? Malroth wasn't just a fierce warrior—he was her best friend. Nothing and no one could ever replace him, yet no matter how much she tried to assure him of this, he grew jealous and slightly indignant, much like a child throwing a fit over not getting enough attention as their sibling. Malroth's smile became rarer as the days went by until finally, he stopped smiling altogether. Gone was the relatively happy young man she'd come to know, and in his place was a quiet, withering, moody person who no longer enjoyed fighting.

Things took a turn for the worse when Warwick tricked everyone into thinking Malroth was the traitor, planting little seeds of doubt wherever he could until finally, he managed to convince the king that imprisonment was necessary. The Builder didn't care about anything after that. She didn't care about the quality of her work, or the fact that Atlas was on his way to crush the castle they'd all worked so hard to defend and rebuild. She didn't care that she felt cold all the time, both inside and out, no matter how many layers she put on, and she didn't care that she no longer slept or ate a healthy amount. All she cared about was freeing her best friend and making things right.

If she had known Warwick was trying to weaken their defenses completely and double cross them, she would have thrown _him_ in that cell herself. Malroth didn't deserve to be tossed in jail, especially not after he'd worked so tirelessly to defend everyone... to defend _her_. It all became one big mess and he wouldn't listen to her when she tried to explain everything. Anessa tried to help and took responsibility for what had happened, but still, Malroth decided it was time they go their separate ways.

_"You're disgusting."_

His words rang in her ears even in her dreams. Malroth had never lifted a finger against her, yet his words hurt her worse than any physical blow ever could.

After returning home and watching him walk away, she'd scoured the island in hopes of finding him, but Malroth was nowhere to be found. The Builder had even asked Brownbeard if he'd given Malroth a lift to some other island, but no, the captain hadn't seen hide nor tail of the tough young man since they'd returned from Moonbrooke. The only word about his well-being had been from Lulu, and he'd even pushed _her_ away. The pinkette had tried talking to him, but he wouldn't have it; he sent her away and warned her not to approach him again. Lulu hadn't been hurt so much as she'd been worried; she and Malroth didn't always get along, but he'd never reacted like this before. Something wasn't right.

Sometimes the Builder wished they'd never gone to Moonbrooke because maybe then they'd still be best friends. Everyone was so focused on building a castle from the ground-up that they hardly even thought about the warrior man who'd fought relentlessly for their freedom. He was one of the biggest contributors to them finding peace, and yet, no one really asked about him or mentioned him save for Anessa. The Builder was a little taken aback by this, but she supposed they just didn't know Malroth like she did. They didn't know that each time they found a new island, he became just as enthusiastic about building as the Builder did; he fought monsters without a second thought if it meant protecting innocent people; he sacrificed his time and energy to help the Builder in whatever she needed help with, even if she tried to tell him she could handle it herself. Malroth was rough around the edges, but he was selfless. He had a good heart.

He'd fought just as hard for them as the Builder had, and where was his credit? Only Anessa and the King seemed to be willing to recognize his efforts. Only Anessa and Lulu commented on how their last battle with Shane and his underlings had been missing something—some_one_.

Much of the conversations between the Builder and the Moonbrookians revolved around what needed to be done next, how to do it, and how to do it properly. How could they just forget about Malroth? She understood excitement over building something new, but... But Malroth was a _friend_! What good was building if your friends weren't around to enjoy it with you? Why weren't they more concerned over his well-being? Anessa had been at odds with him moreso than anyone else on that blasted war-torn island, yet she seemed to be the only one out of their group who cared!

The Builder sighed. She glanced out the window, where a few miners were helping to build a new chapel for Sister Esther. She watched as they completed the front of the church, the stained glass windows sparkling in the sunshine. They high-fived each other, a sight that sent a pang of hurt through the Builder.

Speaking of building with friends, where was she now, when he needed someone to be there for him? Sitting on her butt with Lulu, a hot cup of tea in front of her while they watched people below work on the rest of the castle town. To be fair, what could she do? He was nowhere on the island, she'd searched every nook and cranny, but he was gone as far as she could tell. How could she try to make things right when she couldn't even find him?

Lulu seemed to pick up on the Builder's inner turmoil because she set her own teacup back on the table. "I'm sure when he's ready, he'll come talk to one of us. Malroth doesn't strike me as stupid, although I do question his sense of taste sometimes... If he needs help, I'm sure he'll find us in his own time. For now, maybe we should allow him the space he's asking for."

The Builder nodded absentmindedly. She knew Lulu was trying to offer comfort, but all she could think about was her ex-best friend, alone and hurting all by himself. Anytime she even had a sliver of doubt about a mission or task, Malroth was always right there cheering her on and encouraging her. She was a Builder and massive projects excited her, but even she had her moments where she'd think, "Am I aiming too high? Is this above my skill level? What if I fail?"

Malroth had been there for every instance of doubt, and now that he was in his hour of need, where was she?

She sighed. When they were finally able to find Malroth, she had a lot of apologizing to do. "I hope he does come to us. I have a lot to make up to him."

"He will. For now, the castle is almost done. I wanted to ask your opinion on what color you think the curtains should be in the royal throne ro—"

Lulu was interrupted by a massive booming noise. An ominous quake shook the island and both young women let out surprised squeaks as they nearly fell out of their chairs. The quake was short-lived, thank goodness, but before Lulu or the Builder could ask what happened, the skies outside rapidly began to grow dark. Thunder rumbled softly, large streaks of lightning crackling through the black clouds that were quickly rolling in.

"What's going on out there?" the Builder asked. She stood and jogged out towards the town square of Cerulean Steppe, where the others were gathered as well. Everyone was staring up at the skies with the same perplexion she felt.

"There wasn't a cloud in the sky before," Jeremiah remarked, voicing what everyone else was thinking. "What in blazes is goo-ing, I mean _going_, on?"

Another rumble shook the island, causing a few people to fall on their rear ends. Rain began to come down in thick, rapid sheets, soaking everyone within minutes. They would've taken shelter if not for the strange voice that seemed to come from all around them.

_"Slain by the Scions of Erdrick, the High Priest Hargon offered up his soul, that mighty Malroth might be reborn..."_

Chills ran down the Builder's spine. The voice was gravelly and deep, almost demonic.

"'Ey, 'oo said that?" Perry asked. Many shifted uneasily.

_"Ever since that moment, I have lain dormant within him... Biding my time..."_

The voice came again, but this time, it seemed to be coming from the sky. Everyone's attention lifted briefly to the dark clouds that loomed above them. They looked up as much as the rain would allow.

_"This world of nothingness is now filled with the power of creation... The stage is finally set! Almighty Malroth's awakening is at hand!"_

"Seriously, who said that?" Britney spoke up. "'Cause, like, none of us are talking."

"Oi, Builder."

_That_ voice, they recognized. Everyone turned to see Malroth, the warrior they'd all come to know and care for, but... He looked different. The flaming aura that often surrounded him during battle was present, but the fire was black and purple instead of orange and yellow. It was strange because normally he got fired up for battle, literally and figuratively, when there were monsters around, and there weren't currently any in Cerulean Steppe (at least not any monsters that were considered enemies; the powie yowie they'd recruited was a big softie). His ruby gaze was hardened and dangerous as it swept over the crowd, causing many to take an unconscious step back. The only way to describe his new appearance was _evil._

"Malroth, there you are!" Lulu had no qualms about stepping forward, malicious aura or not. "We've all been worried sick about you!"

"Yeah, right. You let me sit by myself, much like _she_ left me to rot in that jail cell." His voice was deep and menacing, enough to send chills down a person's spine. "You can't fool me, Lulu. None of you actually cared about me: I was just a tool for you to use against the Children of Hargon."

"That's not true!" the Builder cried out, stepping forward as well. "We didn't know Warwick was the traitor! If we had known, I never would have let them—"

"_ENOUGH_!"

The entire Isle of Awakening trembled as a massive bolt of lightning cracked across the sky.

"I've had enough of this," Malroth growled. "All you do is make excuses. I'm tired of you using me to do your dirty work. From this point on, we're going to do this my way."

Thunder rumbled softly overhead, or at least, they all initially thought it had been thunder. They quickly realized just how wrong they were.

Behind Malroth were thousands upon thousands of monsters approaching, all of varying shapes, sizes, and deadliness. They moved as one unit, forming behind Malroth like an army, stopping only when he lifted a hand.

_That's exactly what they are,_ the Builder realized with horror. _Malroth's got an army at his disposal. He's on _their_ side, now._

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Why won't you let me talk to you? If you would just listen, you'd know I wasn't making excuses and—"

"I'm done listening to you!" Malroth barked. "You should've trusted me! How many adventures have we been through together? And yet you still held up that mirror, you still threw me in jail and left me there, only letting me out when you needed my help. What kind of friend _are_ you, anyway?!"

His words cut through her worse than any physical weapon ever could. The Builder's mouth fell closed with a gentle snap, shame coloring her cheeks. He was right. What kind of friend _was_ she?

"Why do you have _them_ with you?" Lulu asked, eyeing a badboon that looked particularly ferocious. "What do you mean when you say 'we're going to do this my way'? Come on, Malroth, why can't we talk things out?"

"Talk about what? The fact that your precious Builder betrayed me?"

"You aren't even letting her apologize to you. How could you just walk away from your friendship over one misunderstanding?"

Malroth's eyes narrowed, those ruby reds turning murderous. "Do you know what it's like to sit in a jail cell and rot?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," she shot back. "Back on the ship, before we ended up on this isle, I—"

"Do you know what it's like to sit in a jail cell and rot because your own best friend doesn't trust you, even when you've done nothing but be there for her and protect her?"

Lulu faltered. "Well, _no_, but—"

"But nothing. By all rights, this isle is mine. The _Builder_ is mine. I'm going to pay her back for all the trouble and pain she's caused me. And then I'm going to destroy this stupid island!"

It was then that the villagers began to fall back, the fighters coming forward, swords at the ready. The Builder felt frozen, icy adrenaline flooding her veins along with heartache. Their friendship was irreparable. No amount of talking or apologizing would do any good now; all that was left was to fight, and with how the current situation looked, this battle would only lead to one becoming victor: Malroth would either defeat them, killing everyone in his path...

...Or they would be forced to take him down.

The Builder wanted to vomit at that realization. How did it get to be this bad? If she could just go back in time and grab Warwick by the ear and toss _him_ in that damn cell instead of Malroth... If she could just hug her best friend and tell him that she was sorry, that she'd made a _huge_ mistake and had so much to make up to him...

No one said anything, but they didn't have to. Bonanzo, Dougie, Gerome, Britney, everyone... What they were thinking was clear: they were going to fight to protect the Builder, even if the odds were immensely stacked against them. Even if it meant certain death.

Malroth seemed to sense this as well because he laughed. "You think you can handle my army, huh? I'm gonna wipe the floor with all of you!"

With that, he snapped his fingers and all hell broke loose.

Monsters descended upon humans. Shouts, roars, growls, and cries filled the air alongside the sounds of clanking swords. The humans managed to take on a few waves of monsters, but then the tides turned. Babs and Anessa fought side-by-side when they were cornered by a particularly strong group of killing machines, Bonanzo and the miners fighting valiantly against some skeleton scrappers and soldiers until a huge dread dragon knocked them to the ground hard. Maguses, shamans, bewarewolfs, knight errants, even super-strong monsters... Malroth was pulling out all the stops. The Isle of Awakening's fighters were trying to keep up, but there were too many monsters.

"They're too strong, fall back!" Anessa screeched. The soldiers from Moonbrooke obliged, retreating slowly as an axesaurus began to give chase. The people from Khrumbul-Dun and Furrowfield had their hands full as well. Esther and Jeremiah were doing everything they could to continue healing those who were wounded, but the ratio of monster to human was overwhelming. Too many people were falling on the battlefield for them to keep track of, and it was only a matter of time before they fell, too, monsters trying to prevent them from healing the others.

As another wave was defeated with great difficulty, another appeared. There were four green dragons, six giant killing machines, two boss trolls, death scorpions, orcs... The list went on. They were grossly outnumbered, and the worst part of it all was that Malroth was no longer there to help fend them all off.

This time, _he_ was the one leading the attack.

The Builder did what she could to help her friends, but there was one person currently distracting her from her mission. As soon as he spotted those familiar blonde pigtails, he let out a ferocious battle cry and charged towards her, a fiery black aura surrounding him. He pursued her at every turn and kept striking at her _hard_, almost to the point where a single hit would be enough to knock her out cold... If not _worse_. She had no choice but to focus on holding him off while the others dealt with his seemingly endless army.

No one failed to notice that Malroth looked more monster than human, his gloves torn up to reveal sharp black claws on his fingers. His ears were becoming webbed and purple, scales beginning to show around various parts of his skin. Even his teeth were much sharper.

"Why are you doing this?" she yelled, the sounds of battle drowning out the world around them. Her Aurora Blade clashed with his club as he swung it at her, and she planted her feet firmly in the wet sand as she held him off. "I thought we were friends!"

"You're _not_ my friend! This whole time, you've only been using me!" he snarled. A burst of strength rippled through him and he sent the Builder flying backwards, nearly knocking the sword out of her hands. Malroth surged forward and lifted his club high, bringing it down with all of his might. It would have crushed the Builder had she not rolled out of the way at the last second, her eyes widening at how close a call that had been.

"Malroth, stop! This is madness! If you keep this up, you'll kill us!"

Malroth didn't respond this time. His eyes held a faraway look to them, as if he weren't mentally present.

_"Impudent, wretched builder..."_

She dodged another attack, but the strange voice from earlier rang through her head. The Builder's eyes widened as she realized this wasn't quite Malroth. Something was controlling him, something truly evil and wicked. The person trying to fight her was not her best friend.

She had to help him. Somehow, some way, she had to get through to him despite whatever had gained control over him.

He struck at her again and again, and she defended herself from every attack as best she could. He was about to charge at her yet again when a huge knight errant interrupted, falling between them and momentarily obstructing Malroth's path. A terrified scream tore the Builder's attention from her ex-friend's assault and she turned to see Rosie, Perry, Haydin, and Lillian surrounded by a bunch of massive army ants. She hurried towards them and felled each of the army ants before they could even hope to bite the villagers. After the last army ant met its end, a massive roar shook the island and everyone, monster and human alike, paused in their battles to look towards Malroth, the source of the noise.

He clutched at his skull, pained grunts and screams escaping him as his body began to twist and grow. Greenish-blue scales replaced his tan skin and his face morphed into something inhuman, something _monstrous_. Over the span of minutes, he grew to almost the size of Atlas, his body morphing into that of a dragon with a sharp pair of horns, four arms, a tail with a snake head at the end of it, and a face that could cause nightmares.

When he was finished transforming, a deep, chill-inducing chuckle boomed throughout the land and time seemed to unfreeze, the fighting resuming without a hitch. The Builder looked at her former friend with a mix of horror and sadness, her heart clenching painfully when she realized the outcome of this battle had been decided. She and the others would have no choice but to take him down, or else he'd... _No._

_Malroth... What have you become?_

It wasn't long before the humans were finally overtaken, many of them lying around the beach with monsters surrounding them, daring them to get up again as they waited for their master to give the signal to put an end to the battle once and for all.

Malroth's now-yellowed gaze swept over the battlefield searchingly. All of the humans he'd once called "friends" were sprawled out around the beach, many of them sporting hefty injuries, bloody and bruised and struggling to stay conscious. Everything inside of him craved their destruction and demise. The Builder had done a wonderful job inspiring hope within their hearts, and what a treat it would be to watch that flame of hope flicker and die once he extinguished the cause of their persistence.

_No..._ A voice whispered within him. _This is wrong... They're my friends... They don't deserve this!_

The dragon growled. His head felt funny again... Part of him wanted to smash this island to smithereens, but another part... Wanted to save them all?

"What... What exactly do you want?" Bonanzo asked, gritting his teeth through his pain.

The question caught the destructive entity off-guard. He hadn't expected one of those weak little humans to actually address him.

"I want the Builder," Malroth snarled, looking very much dragon and barely like the handsome warrior they all knew and loved. "She and I have unfinished business."

The Builder moved from behind Bonanzo, who was wheezing and clutching his side. "My girl, stay close to me. I can still protect you!"

"No, Bonanzo." The blonde smiled sadly at him. "That won't be necessary. This is between me and Malroth."

"But, my girl—"

"Please. I promise, I'll be okay."

Malroth was watching them closely, and his scowl morphed into a malicious grin once the Builder began to walk towards him without hesitation.

"I'm right here."

A nasty grin spread across his monstrous face. "Come forward. _Now_."

The blonde obliged, making her way slowly past the many unconscious forms of their friends. Den and the miners from various Buildertopias were out cold, Digby and Dougie sporting hefty injuries despite their obvious strength. Some of the soldiers from Moonbrooke were still standing, albeit surrounded by monsters, but Anessa and Zara had not been as fortunate. They were lying side-by-side on the ground, both groaning softly as pain continued to ebb from their wounds.

"No, B-Builder..." Anessa coughed, weakly reaching for the blonde's leg once she was close enough. "Please... H-he'll kill you.."

"It's okay, Anessa, he won't kill me. The Malroth I know would never hurt me."

"But... We _need_ you..."

The Builder knelt down and placed a caring hand on the wounded general's shoulder. "You guys don't need me. All you ever needed was for someone to help you remember what hope feels like. You're all capable of incredible things, you just needed to realize it."

"You taught us how to build, how to _live_. Please, Builder, d-don't go to him."

"You of all people understand the value of sacrifice, Anessa. When I agreed to help you guys, I also agreed to help protect you from whatever threats came your way. Let me fulfill that. If I can save all of you, I'll do whatever it takes."

Anessa looked like she wanted to protest more, but she simply nodded, settling back down with a wince. Babs was lying a few feet away, her beautiful face dirty from being tossed into the sand like a rag doll. Zara was barely conscious, but managed to lift her head and offer the Builder a weak yet meaningful glance.

"Please, Builder..." the soldier coughed. "Be careful."

The blonde in question nodded, and Zara closed her eyes, settling back down just as Anessa had.

Monsters watched as the Builder slowly made her way towards their master.

_There has to be a way to get through to him_, she thought. Whatever was controlling him couldn't stop him from feeling emotions; he was obviously fueled by hurt. Maybe she could get through to him by trying to reason, to appeal to his emotions.

"What do you want with me?" she asked softly, halting before him. "How can I make things right?"

"You can't make things right. You left me to die!"

"I had no idea that Warwick was playing the blame game," the Builder argued. "None of us knew he was the traitor."

"If none of you knew, why was I the one you immediately accused?"

"The others may have accused you first, but I never thought that way about you! You're my best friend, Malroth, I fought for you to be freed!"

"Do you have any idea how long I spent in that jail cell, wondering when you'd let me out, _if_ you'd let me out?"

Guilt crossed the Builder's features. "I'm sorry, Malroth, I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I tried to get you out as soon as I could, I swear I did, but no one listened to me."

He scowled. "Still doesn't change the fact that I had to sit there and rot while the real traitor got to walk free. How fair is that?"

"I can't change the past. All I can do is try to be a better person in the future."

One of his arms shot forward and grabbed her by the hips, and she grunted in pain as he squeezed, holding her high into the air.

When she was face-to-face with him, she met his eyes and fought not to cringe at the hatred that burned within his gaze. The warrior was gone, but she could still see her tough best friend deep within those menacing yellow eyes. The Master of Destruction squeezed again and the Builder grunted in pain, gritting her teeth to keep from outright screaming. If he squeezed any harder, he'd crush her pelvis; he'd _kill _her, he'd kill _everyone_. She had to stay strong, if not for the others, then to get through to him. She just had to hold on...

"What makes you think I'll let you live?" he purred.

"Because you're not evil," the Builder wheezed.

"If I destroy you, my pain will stop," his voice was much deeper, much more terrifying than the Builder imagined was possible.

"If you destroy me, you'll destroy yourself."

The dragon cackled. "Pray tell, worthless builder, how would that happen?"

"_Because_," she grit out. "Without me... You'll be alone."

"As if I care about being alone," he hissed. "I don't need you. I don't need _any_ of you. You left me alone when I needed you most, but in doing that, you showed me I'm better off on my own. I don't need any of you. _You're_ the one who needs _me_."

He wasn't entirely wrong. Malroth could go off on his own and he'd be just fine, but the Builder... She'd never had a friend like him before. She'd never had a best friend before Malroth entered her life.

"I need you, but not.. Not in the way you think," she managed. He narrowed his eyes at her until they were slits.

"Then in what way?"

"We're best friends. I can't..." She huffed, his grip making it hard to breathe. "I can't imagine life without you. I don't _want_ to imagine life without you."

"Too bad."

"Malroth," she whispered, gritting her teeth at the pain as he squeezed again in warning. Her time would soon be up if he kept doing that. "Listen, I made a huge mist—_agh!_—mistake, and I'm sorry. I know I can't take it back, I can't take away how hurt you feel."

He scoffed. "I am _not_ hurt."

"Yes, you are." Her blue eyes searched his yellowed ones. "And it's _okay_, Malroth, you have every right to be angry with me. You thought I'd betrayed you and left you, especially after everything you'd sacrificed and done for me. You thought I'd purposely locked you up, that I didn't trust you after all the time we've spent adventuring together. That kind of pain hurts more than any physical injury. But please... I'm asking for your forgiveness. I'm not perfect and I made a big mistake, but I'm not lying when I say I fought for you. Ask Anessa, ask Gerome, ask the king himself next time you see him... I _tried_, Malroth. I tried to get you out of there, but no one would listen to me. Demands kept popping up."

"And you allowed these demands to get in the way of my freedom? Your supposed best friend was less important than some stupid little tasks?"

The Builder winced as he squeezed yet again, white hot pain dancing in her hips, ribs, and waist. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone else beat her to it.

"She's telling the truth!" Zara shouted. Malroth's murderous gaze flickered towards the wounded soldier, his grip loosening ever so slightly much to the Builder's relief. "We didn't mean for you to stay locked up, but we had to deal with Warwick and Atlas. She tried to get us to listen, to give you your freedom, but we were too caught up in everything else. Please, Malroth, she _did_ try!"

The Builder peeked up at the dragon currently gripping her. His eyes flickered from Zara to her. After a moment of deliberation, much to the Builder's surprise, his grip loosened even more, and she exhaled in relief. Her body would definitely be sore later on, but she wasn't out of the woods yet.

Malroth's eyes bore into hers, but she didn't shy away; she met his stare head-on like always. While most people found his eyes weird or intimidating, the Builder never, ever thought so. She was the only one who never failed to look him in the eye, and she never showed a hint of fear while doing it. She was a strange one, but that was one of the things he liked most about her.

Even now... She was facing him at his literal worst. He'd become something truly horrifying, and yet she still met his eyes fearlessly.

In that moment, he realized people were not perfect, and he was no different... How many times had he tried creating something, only for it to blow up in his face? And those soldiers who had died in Moonahan... That had been his fault. They would still be alive today if not for him. How could he sit there and judge her for one mistake when he'd made plenty himself?

The biggest mistake of all was right in front of him: most of their friends were lying unconscious on the field, bruised and battered from his army. Shame and horror filled him at the realization that this was all _his_ fault. He'd hurt the very people he'd vowed to protect with his life. He'd let something dark and twisted within him spiral out of control, and everyone he ever cared about had paid the price.

He had blood on his hands from Moonahan and he'd caused his friends such pain... Who was he to hold a grudge against anybody?

"Malroth." The Builder's sweet voice stole his attention once more. She could see the pain in his eyes, the anguish, the self-conviction and self-condemnation, and the hurt swirling deep down inside his soul. "Malroth, please. Let me try to be here for you just like you've always been there for me. Whatever is hurting you... Aside from my screw up in Moonbrooke... We can face it together. You don't have to deal with it alone. I'm your friend, so please let me help you. Let me be there for you like you've always been here for me. Let me make this right."

That seemed to be the final straw. Something within his gaze softened and the claws around her carefully lowered her to the ground, setting her on her feet. The Builder looked up at him with gratitude only to see Malroth's extra arms clutching his body in pain. He seemed to be having some kind of internal battle with himself. He groaned as his claws came up to grasp his head.

_"She is lying to you, my Lord."_

_The Builder? No, she can't be, why would she lie about_—

_"Don't you see, my Master? She is toying with your emotions, trying to spare her wretched little life. Dispose of her quickly; in doing so, You will be able to bring salvation to Your eager, patient followers."_

"Builder..." That deep and terrifying voice rang out over the battlefields, but Malroth's mouth never moved. "You're lying... You're lying to save your own skin."

"I'm telling the truth," she corrected. "And if you really think I'm lying, then... Then go right ahead and destroy _me_."

"BUILDER, _NO!_" Many of the others began shouting her name, begging and pleading with her not to say such a thing or to offer her life, but the blonde pretended not to hear them. To Malroth's credit, even he seemed stunned by her words.

The monsters watched the exchange quietly. Something had changed in their master and they waited for his next orders patiently.

"I trust you, Malroth," she continued, falling to her knees. "You're still my best friend and I trust you with my life. If you really think I'm lying, then you can destroy me, right here and now, but I ask that you leave the others unharmed. Don't make them pay for my mistake. Please."

The silence that followed was tense. Malroth's breaths came out in shaky, ragged pants as shooting pains continued to wrack through his head. He watched as the Builder lifted her hand up towards him. Instinctively, he lifted a clawed hand and met hers in the gentlest high-five ever.

"And if you choose to destroy me, then I have one final thing to say," the Builder said, that dopey grin returning. It seemed like the storm began to let up at the return of her sunny demeanor, and Malroth tilted his head to the side curiously as he waited for her to continue. "You and I are creation and destruction, right? Well, we _can_ be friends, and I think we _should_ be. You wanna know why? Because we're two sides of the same coin. Without creation, there's nothing to destroy, and without destruction, creation can't happen. We need each other, Mal, and I think we were meant to become friends. I'm glad I met you, and I know a lot of other people who'd say the same thing.

"But if this is the end, if you choose to destroy me, I still stand by what I say. I'm glad I got to meet you and I'll always treasure the time we spent together. If nothing else, please believe me when I say that I love you."

_"My Lord—"_

_She's my friend, my best friend._

_"She hurt you. She betrayed you."_

_Maybe, but I don't want to hurt her._

_"But Master Malroth—"_

_No! I won't let you control me anymore! I won't hurt her!_

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, watching and waiting as Malroth let out one final, loud roar as plumes of purple fire overtook him. Bright lights exploded forth from his body, the world becoming so bright for a moment that no one could see anything _but_ light. When the world became right again, no longer was a dragon in their midst; in the monster's stead was the handsome young man they recognized, only... He didn't look like his usual self. Humiliation and defeat colored his expression, those red eyes full of deep sadness and confusion. The Builder wondered if he even knew what had just come over him. She was pretty sure Malroth wasn't aware he could transform into a full-fledged dragon.

He clutched his head and looked around, blinking a few times as if awakening from a dream. No one said anything. Even Lulu, who usually had something to say about everything, remained silent. They all just stared at Malroth, unsure of how to approach him, or _if_ they should even approach him.

The Builder, however, didn't hesitate. She immediately closed the distance between them, sprinting as fast as her wounded body would allow, and pulled him into a tight hug. Malroth tensed up at first, unused to such an affectionate gesture, but then practically collapsed against her, silent sobs wracking through his body as he clung to her. His embrace was almost painful, but she gladly held him, happy to have him in her arms.

The people of Furrowfield, Khrumbul-Dun, and Moonbrooke slowly eased themselves up from where they'd all been resting on the ground. Many limped forward to encompass the Builder and Malroth in a weak attempt at a group-hug, and as they did so, Malroth's tears only worsened.

"I'm... I'm _so_ sorry," he choked out. "I never meant to hurt any of you, I-I—"

"It's okay," the Builder whispered, and he pushed away from her, brokenness written all over his face. "It's okay now, Malroth."

"It's not okay. I hurt each and every one of you," he murmured, his head hanging low with shame. "I'm a monster, I... I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"That ain't true," Digby piped up. "Yer still one of us. And we still care loads about ya!"

"Yeah! You've, like, totally saved our butts more times than I can count," Britney chimed in. A nasty-looking bruise adorned her left cheek, but she still managed a grin. "You're the real MVP, Malroth."

Anessa smiled despite her own pain. "As one of the best soldiers Moonbrooke has to offer, allow me to say that you are a truly righteous man, Malroth. I apologize for ever doubting your intentions back on Moonbrooke. On behalf of my home island, I apologize for what we put you through."

Malroth looked at each and every one of their friends, his heartache only worsening when he realized just how bruised and banged-up they all were. They would be going through a lot of medicinal herbs, that was for sure.

"A righteous man would never hurt his friends, no matter how angry," he said sadly.

At that, Zara shook her head. "Even the most righteous man makes mistakes. We don't always make the best decisions when we're angry or hurt."

"I _was_ angry and hurt," he admitted. "But I took it all too far. I let it... I let it consume me."

"Hurt and anger tends to do that to people," Rosie chimed in. "What matters is that you came to your senses before it was too late."

"B-but I hurt all of you!" he protested. "How is that not considered 'too late'?"

"Because you didn't kill us," Sister Esther's soft voice reminded. "You didn't kill the Builder. Even in your pain, you couldn't bring yourself to truly hurt us. That, my lamb, is what matters most."

Even after all of this, they still cared about him. They still looked at him as one of their own. In his hatred, he'd forgotten all the good times they'd all shared, that they were good people thrust into cruddy situations.

_I screwed up big time._

"How do I fix all of this?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically small. The monsters were watching in shocked silence at how remorseful their master was. He was supposed to be all about destruction and chaos, so why was he weeping and apologizing? Hadn't Hargon indicated he was beyond such things?

"I should be asking _you_ that," the Builder said. Tears swam in her own eyes and Malroth felt that much worse; making a lady cry was not something a man should be proud of, after all. "If it weren't for what happened in Moonbrooke, we wouldn't be here. I'm sorry for not believing you, Malroth. I should've known something was up with Warwick since he was the one who kept pointing a finger at everyone but himself. I'm sorry for holding up that mirror and for letting you get imprisoned. I'm sorry for all of it."

Her tears began to fall, mixing with the light rain that continued to pelt the Isle of Awakening. The Builder covered her face as her emotions overwhelmed her, and it was Malroth's turn to grab her and pull her into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's okay. None of us knew it was him. He covered his tracks very well, we couldn't have known."

"No, I should've fought harder for you, I shouldn't have let it get as far as it did. I'm _so_ sorry, Malroth..."

"Shh..."

As they clung to each other, monsters and humans alike watched as creation and destruction silently made amends. The time for fighting had ceased; now all there was left to do was pick up the broken pieces and rebuild from there.


	14. The Blacksmith's Assistant

**Credit goes to the awesome Ciaxlia for this idea! You wanted to see Malroth "building" or having a different hobby aside from destroying stuff, and I hope this does your idea justice :)**

* * *

_Malroth still isn't good at building stuff, but maybe he doesn't have to build to actually be a builder._

**The Blacksmith's Assistant**

"_DAMN _IT!"

Malroth growled and shoved the broken pieces of stone off the workbench, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly. The Builder, who had been patiently supervising, placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"I'll never get the hang of this," he groaned, feeling more hopeless than ever. His alter ego may have been defeated, but he _still_ couldn't make stuff like the Builder. He could make basic little things like torches, but not wall blocks, structures, or furniture; how the heck did _she_ manage to do this 24/7 without breaking a sweat? And how did she make such amazing-quality stuff on her first try when he could barely make something _acceptable_?

"It takes time," the Builder consoled. "You'll pick it up sooner or later, and then you'll be building so much that you'll look back on this day and laugh."

Malroth seriously doubted that. She was trying to be nice, but it was obvious he wasn't cut out to become a bona-fide builder like everyone else on the Isle of Awakening. He didn't mind being the odd man out, but everyone looked like they enjoyed making stuff. _He_ wanted to be able to make stuff, too.

"Look, why don't we go grab a drink?" the blonde suggested, tugging at his elbow. That dopey smile was back on her pretty face, the smile that always managed to make _him_ smile as well. "C'mon, a digger's jigger or two might make you feel better. Maybe you're having trouble building because you've been at this for hours now and you're burnt out. We can always try again later."

The master of destruction grumbled under his breath, but unfolded his arms and began to follow his best friend towards the new bar she'd built for Den. The closer they got to the gold-brick establishment, the more Malroth began to feel a little better. Dougie and Digby weren't there this particular evening, probably goofing off on the railroad tracks the Builder had placed around the entire isle, but he was still happy to see a few of their friends putting their feet up at the counter.

"Malroth, Builder!" Den greeted with a warm smile. "What can I do fer ya?"

"Two digger's jiggers on the double, please!" the Builder replied cheerfully. She and Malroth took a seat at one of the tables where one of the bunnysuit-clad dancers approached them and rattled off the menu. After ordering dinner to go with their drinks, the two best friends leaned back against their chairs and simply enjoyed the upbeat vibe of the bar.

At one point, the blonde excused herself to use the bathroom, leaving Malroth to his thoughts. His mind kept going back to the workbench, how everything he tried to make either came out crappy or literally blew up in his face. Technically speaking, he was no longer the true master of destruction, so why was he still struggling to make stuff? The others could create massive wonders without breaking a sweat, so why couldn't he do it, too? What was so wrong with him that he couldn't make anything?

The Builder returned to find her friend fuming, just as he'd been earlier at the workbench. Other people seemed to have moved their chairs away from the seething male and she sighed, sitting across from him.

"Are you thinking about building again?"

"_No_," he snapped. At the hurt that flashed in her eyes, he amended, "Okay, fine, _yes_. I'm frustrated. I just want to help you guys build stuff, but no matter how hard I try, I still can't make anything."

"You know, building doesn't always mean actually building structures and furniture," the blonde mused aloud, her fingers tapping against the table's surface. "Building takes many forms. You can build relationships, for example, and you can certainly manipulate objects."

Just then, their drinks were delivered and the Builder made sure to take a hearty sip of hers. Scarlet Sands was beautiful and she loved the warm weather, but being out in the hot sun all day made for a rather dry throat. She savored the bittersweet taste of aged vineapple.

Malroth raised an eyebrow at her statement. "Manipulate objects how?"

"You've seen those paintings in the Cerulean Steppe art gallery, right?" At his nod, she continued: "Applying paint to canvas is technically manipulating the canvas. You're changing it and making it something new, something different than what it originally was. That's one example."

"But is it really building?"

"I guess it depends on how you look at it," she admitted. "What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to be, like, a carpenter to be a builder, so if you're not able to whip up a chair or build an entire house, that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I meant it when I said building takes many forms. You just have to find something you enjoy and something you're good at making."

"But what if I'm never able to make anything? What if I never become a builder?"

"Don't worry so much," she assured him, taking another sip. "You'll become a builder one day. It may take time and it may take a lot more practice, but I have faith in you."

* * *

The Builder's words rang through Malroth's head the next day as he pondered what building actually entailed. Could he really be a builder without actually building anything? He couldn't create things like other people, so what had she been getting at? It sounded a little stupid to him, being a "builder" of relationships...

"Malroth!" The man in question turned to see Magrog jogging up to him. "If you aren't busy, can you help me with something?"

"Sure, what's up?" He brandished his mallet. "Any monsters giving you a hard time?"

"Nothing like that, thank the goddess." The blacksmith pointed to his forge. "I need your help with a new weapon I'm making."

"Me, help _you_?" Malroth blinked. "You do realize who you're talking to, right? I can't make much of anything, let alone a weapon."

Magrog laughed. "I'm not asking you to make the entire thing, I just need your help for a moment. I need an extra set of muscles to help me shape a sword that Anessa requested."

"And if it blows up?"

"If it blows up, I'll just make another one. No big deal."

Malroth nodded slowly, as if getting used to the idea that someone was willing to let him help build something. "Alright. What do you need me to do?"

"Follow me to the smithy and I'll show you. It shouldn't take long, but if it does, I'd be glad to pay you for your time."

"Don't worry about it," the destructive male waved him off. "Just show me what you need help with and I'll do what I can."

* * *

The Builder started getting worried when she didn't see Malroth for a good three days after their conversation at Den's bar.

She knew he was still in Scarlet Sands. He spent a good chunk of his time there because he loved the atmosphere and the hot environment. It was like a slice of Khrumbul-Dun, just without the mines and endless underground tunnels. Malroth had told her on many occasions how much he'd loved their time on the arid island, so it made sense that he'd spend lots of time in the one place on the Isle that was similar to it.

The blonde checked the bar, the pool, even the spa resort, but all lacked her best friend's presence. She was about to give up and continue her search in Green Gardens when she heard metal clashing against metal. If she didn't know any better, she'd say Magrog was hard at work at the forge; lots of people commissioned him for new silverware and such, so it wasn't crazy to think he'd be busy.

She sidled up to the smithy and peeked in through the window, surprised to see not Magrog banging away at the anvil, but _Malroth_. Magrog joined him a moment later and they both worked to shape the red-hot blade.

Malroth cut a rather handsome silhouette against the forge's flames. The Builder stood transfixed by the way both men worked together to shape the red-hot metal, her gaze lingering mostly on Malroth. Despite the dimness of the room, she could still see his muscles bulging and flexing slightly as he brought his hammer down again and again. Sweat glistened on his skin and his expression was fixed with concentration as he assisted the blacksmith in creating weaponry.

Had Malroth always been so... _hot_?

The Builder blushed at that thought. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't be thinking such things about her best friend! Malroth was incredibly handsome, yes, but _hot_?

Yet she remained where she stood, her eyes glued to the handsome young man as he worked. She knew it was rather telling that her first thought about him in that moment was that he was hot, but that could be dealt with later. Right now, all she could do was watch as he and Magrog successfully shaped and tempered a beautiful new sword. The smithy high-fived the destructive young man once they were finished, breaking the spell the Builder had been under.

Once the sword was ready, Malroth tested it and it held up perfectly. Magrog clapped enthusiastically, and he said something that made the warrior grin.

The Builder watched as they went through the process of making another sword. Throughout it, Malroth stood by and let Magrog do his thing, then assisted when it came to shaping and tempering the blade. She would have stayed in that spot forever, just admiring her best friend. She knew Malroth had muscles and he was strong, but now that she could actually get a good look at him, _good_ _goddess_...

"'E's rather fit, isn't 'e?"

The sly tone of Babs's voice told the blonde she'd been busted. Her face grew red as she turned to face the Khrumbul-Dunnian dancer, who was wearing a shit-eating smirk.

"H-how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know you were makin' eyes at Malroth. You were checkin' 'im out, weren't you?"

The Builder gasped. "N-no, I wasn't! I-I was just surprised to see him at the forge is all!"

"Mmhmm." Babs wasn't convinced. "Can't say I blame ya. Malroth's a looker and any woman 'oo says otherwise is kiddin' 'erself."

The blonde didn't agree or disagree, her heart still thumping furiously because she'd been caught _checking out her best friend_. Which wasn't the worst thing in the world, of course, but dang it, this was embarrassing. "Y-you're not gonna tell him, are you?"

"'Course not, I ain't no snitch," the strawberry-blonde laughed. "But if you need Malroth for somethin', I can let Magrog know. Yer face is redder than a fresh vineapple and I think 'e'll get suspicious if 'e sees you in such a state."

The Builder heaved a sigh of relief. Honestly, she hadn't meant to start ogling the destructive male, but one look at the way his muscles rippled as he shaped a blade... It made her stomach do flips. It made her feel light and airy.

_He's hotter than that blade he's working on._

"I think they're almost finished with Anessa's order," the dancer continued. "Why don't ya come grab a digger's jigger on the 'ouse while ya wait?"

Reluctantly, the Builder followed Babs away from the smithy, where Malroth and Magrog continued working none the wiser.

* * *

It was later that evening after the Builder discovered Malroth had taken up smithing when she actually saw him again. She was still wrestling with the strange new feelings that had bubbled forth at the image of Malroth hard at work in the smithy, but she felt a little better after a digger's jigger. Babs had been kind enough to let her think things out on her own, and while the Builder had come to the conclusion that okay, maybe she _did_ have a tiny crush on Malroth, she decided she'd keep it to herself for now. The most important thing was that the guy had finally found a hobby that technically made him a builder. He was helping to create weapons, which was pretty fitting, and he looked like he had fun while doing it. She was proud of him for finally finding his niche in terms of making stuff.

The blonde was relaxing in her hotel room and brushing out her hair when a knock pulled her from her thoughts.

"It's open, come on in!"

The door creaked open and she turned around to see Malroth. His appearance was slightly different than usual: his jacket was missing and in its stead was a worn, dirty apron that reached a little past his knees. The blonde could tell he'd been hard at work in the smithy again, but this time, his stance was different than usual. His arms were behind his back as if he were hiding something and his expression was rather shy, only piquing the Builder's curiosity.

"I heard you were looking for me. Someone giving you a hard time about the stuff you've built?"

"No, nothing like that." The Builder smiled. "Just wanted to see what you were up to. I haven't seen you in a few days and the last time we spoke, you were pretty unhappy."

"Oh... Sorry again, by the way. I didn't mean to snap at you, I was just frustrated." He remained where he stood, and the Builder wanted to ask what he had behind his back, but he continued, "Listen, I actually stopped by to give you something. I decided to try something new and it turns out I'm not horrible at it, so I wanted to try making something on my own, and since you're always patient with me, I figured maybe..."

That got her attention. Malroth wasn't the type to give gifts. She nodded for him to continue and he blushed. "Uh, I'll just... _Here_."

At the curious tilt of her head, he looked away and reached out to place something in her hand. It was small, coarse, and metallic, and he hesitated before moving his hand away to uncover it. The Builder stared at the tiny heart-shaped iron piece in her hand. It was the weirdest heart she'd ever seen, but it was also the most beautiful. She could tell that he'd worked hard to create the shape, crude as it might be; it was clearly a labor of love, and despite its odd shape, it shone in the light.

"It... It's nothing like what you can make, but I hope you like it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, uh... I wasn't sure what to make, but Babs said that most girls like heart-shaped things and it was the only one that didn't break under my touch."

The Builder fought a chuckle at the mention of the dancer. She could practically see Babs winking and nudging Malroth her way._ That girl is something else, I swear._

Malroth held his breath as he watched her expression carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. He wondered if she was trying not to laugh, and it would be a kick in the teeth if she _did_ burst into laughter over his attempt. He'd spent four hours trying to make that heart. He'd scrapped multiple pieces of iron that had been heated too much or had cooled before he had time to start shaping it. Some pieces of iron had even blown up in his face when he'd touched them; it was a wonder that Magrog hadn't become exasperated or thrown him out, but the smithy was incredibly patient and kept telling him not to give up, to keep at it.

"You... You _made_ this for me?" the Builder finally asked. She couldn't stop staring at the small token of Malroth's efforts. That funny feeling she'd fought off was back, butterflies filling her stomach. He'd made a little heart for her, how cute was that?

He shifted uneasily. "Yeah. What, uh... What do you think?"

He'd been mentally preparing for her to laugh at him. What he hadn't prepared for was when the Builder flung her arms around him in a big hug.

"I think this is the most beautiful gift anyone's ever given me," she gushed. "I love it! It's so pretty!"

"Pretty...?" Malroth hadn't expected a compliment either, and certainly not a genuine one. "Really?"

"Yes!" The Builder stepped back and held it up to the light, admiring its wonky shape and the way it shone despite its coarse texture. _A labor of love indeed_. "It's beautiful! How long did it take you to make this?"

"A while. I went through a _lot_ of iron ore." Which was true; he'd promised Magrog that he'd foot the bill for ordering more iron despite the blacksmith insisting that that wasn't necessary. "You... You really like it?"

She beamed at him, and she grew bold enough to get on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Of course I do! _You_ made it for me, after all. Thank you."

Malroth blushed, unsure of what to say to that. All he knew was that if she liked that little heart this much, he'd make her all the iron hearts she wanted. "You're welcome."

"When did you decide to take up smithing?"

"A few days ago." The spiky-haired male jammed his thumb over his shoulder. "Magrog needed help with some swords Anessa ordered and he's been teaching me the basics ever since. I'm nowhere near his level of expertise, but I do like working at the forge."

Their conversation about his difficulty with building returned to the front of her mind and she smiled. He'd become a builder alright, and he didn't even realize it.

"Hey Mal, you remember how you were upset that you'd never make anything?"

"Yeah, why?"

She grinned, holding up the crude iron heart proudly. "I'd say this definitely makes you a builder."

* * *

**I apologize if I screwed up any of the blacksmithing terminology/process, I tried doing research but if I made any errors, feel free to PM me and I'll fix what I can!**


	15. Habits

**Hello everyone! I hope you're all doing well and staying safe. ****I know it's been a while since my last update and I realize that this update is pretty much a better-polished version of a oneshot I already posted before, but I wanted to let you guys know I'm still here! I was pretty busy, but I'm hoping to update more often now that I'm home 24/7.**

**Still working on/still open to requests; and if you requested something and it hasn't appeared yet, fret not—it will! Also, shout out to those who recently favorited and followed this series of oneshots! You guys are awesome and I hope you enjoy! :D**

* * *

_In which the beloved Builder keeps forgetting to eat and sleep and Malroth has had enough._

**Habits**

Spending a good chunk of time with the Builder had clued Malroth in to a lot of her habits.

For one thing, she hated having her hair in her face and so she tossed her long locks up into pigtails every morning. When asked about her choice of hairstyle, she'd simply stated that pigtails were an easy way to keep her hair out of her face, plus they looked cute, and Malroth was inclined to agree that 'cute' suited her.

Another habit was that she usually waited until late at night to shower so that if any others around them wanted to bathe, they could do so without having to wait a while. She'd done this on Furrowfield and Khrumbul-Dun, and the habit carried over to the Isle of Awakening despite the fact that there were more than enough showers for everyone to use at any given time. She always made sure to put others before herself, even if it meant not showering (and feeling pretty gross) until the wee hours of morning, when she was sure everyone had had the chance to get clean.

When she was thinking about what to build next, she'd get this uncharacteristically serious look on her face. When she'd finally figure out whatever was stumping her, her eyes would light up and that dopey grin would return as she'd immediately start sketching out a new blueprint in her beloved book. He couldn't count how many times he'd caught her doodling away in that book of hers, still refusing to let him see even though he'd already stolen a few peeks at some of the stuff she'd drawn.

Malroth didn't mind the little quirks the Builder had. If anything, he admired her selflessness and her ceaseless drive to continue creating things for all their friends. Building and being kind to others was just part of her nature, and as long as she was happy, _he_ was happy.

But there were also a few habits the blonde had developed that drove the destructive man crazy.

One, she almost always forgot to eat something.

* * *

_Whether they went off adventuring on one of the Explorer's Islands or he was watching over her as she built something new on the Isle of Awakening, he'd often find the Builder hunched over while clutching her growling stomach. At first, he figured she'd forgotten to grab something to eat; after all, she was always so focused on making something or seeing how she could help the other residents that she often forgot to tend to her own needs._

_But after three straight trips to Rimey Reef and seeing his friend in constant stomach pain, even to the point where she was almost seriously injured in battle because she was having trouble fighting, he couldn't take it anymore._

_When the Builder told him she wanted to make a trip to the island yet again, he promised to meet her at the docks. While she warped away, he jogged towards a familiar restaurant in Green Gardens and shouted, "Yo, Lillian! You in there?"_

_The small girl emerged shortly after, wiping her hands on her apron. "Hi, Malroth! What can I get for you?"_

"_You got any extra bread and baked potatos?"_

_She pursed her lips, trying to think. "I'm pretty sure we do, let me check."_

_After securing three loaves of bread and four baked potatos, Malroth met the Builder at the docks as he'd promised. When they arrived at Rimey Reef, they were exploring for maybe an hour before the Builder's stomach gave that tell-tale growl. She hammered a few blocks out of their way and then groaned, clutching her gut._

_Malroth sighed in annoyance, retrieving the food he'd grabbed for her. _"_Here."_

_The blonde looked at him curiously. "What's this?"_

"_It's food. You need to eat."_

"_Malroth, I'm_—_"_

"_If you try telling me you're fine, I'm gonna slug you," he growled. "You always do this and then wonder why you're in pain."_

_The Builder frowned. "No, I don't_—_"_

"_Yeah, you do, and you better stop talking and start chewing; seriously, you need to eat more, and my threat to slug you still stands if you don't listen to me."_

_The Builder went to protest again when Malroth literally showed a baked potato into her mouth. Whatever she'd been about to say was forgotten as she savored Lillian's cooking. Malroth watched with satisfaction as his friend finally gave into her hunger and demolished one potato after another. __She really needed to start eating more, but until then, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to start bringing extra food with him when they went adventuring. If she couldn't remember, maybe he could remember _for_ her._

* * *

Two, she worked herself ragged, rarely getting any sleep for the sake of finishing up her projects as quickly as possible. Which meant that many times, Malroth had to stay close and keep an eye on her to ensure she didn't pass out.

...Which also meant that sometimes he literally had to pick her up and carry her to the small home they shared so she could actually get some rest.

* * *

_It was heading for noon when Malroth decided to stroll through Green Gardens. The day was peaceful so far and the Furrowfield crew was busy tending to the crops as they usually did. Two of the dogs were running around and yapping excitedly at the Killing Machine that was currently watering the wheat field. Lillian would sometimes come out to offer a drink or snack to some of the workers, but she mostly stayed in the restaurant. That girl loved cooking and baking more than anyone else on the Isle and she was content to spend her days in the kitchen making all sorts of delicious food for anyone and everyone who was hungry, monsters included._

_Malroth was walking through the park the Builder had just finished a few days ago when he happened to look up towards the mountains. At the very top, where his best friend had moved her work station to, he spotted a familiar set of pigtails. He squinted against the sunlight, trying to see what she was up to, but she didn't appear to be moving._

Hmm… That's weird, _he thought. Usually her pigtails were bouncing all over the place when she was crafting something or when she was in the process of working on a blueprint. For once, she was completely still._

_Unease gnawed at him as he watched her for a few more minutes. When she still didn't move, Malroth sprinted up the pathway she'd carved, panic filling him at the thought that she could be hurt. The Builder wasn't weak by any means_—_in fact, she was one of the strongest people he knew_—_but Malroth knew that once she was distracted by a project, it would be easier for monsters to attack her while her guard was down._

_When he made it to her work station, he immediately rushed to her side…_

_...Only to find that she was unharmed, just asleep. Her breathing was deep and even, and her expression was that of peace. She wasn't injured, but she _did _have dark circles under her eyes that indicated she'd been forcing herself to pull all-nighters again. __Malroth groaned, face-palming. He was glad she was okay, but the bags under her eyes indicated she'd worked herself to exhaustion. _Again_._

_Wordlessly, he hefted her into his arms bridal-style and began to make his way back down the mountain. The only time she stirred was to cuddle closer to his chest, and Malroth briefly glanced down at her when she did so, blush creeping across his cheeks._

_Once he'd made it down to the farm, Rosie and Perry cast curious glances his way, but Rosie had the decency to approach him. _"_Is she alright?"_

"_She's fine," he assured. "She fell asleep while working again."_

_The tealette giggled knowingly. "As long as she's okay. Are you taking her to the inn?"_

"_No. I'm taking her home because knowing her, she probably hasn't eaten anything either." Malroth rolled his eyes. "We've got some leftover seared steaks back at the house with her name on them as soon as she wakes up."_

_As the master of destruction carried the sleeping blonde towards the house they shared, he just missed hearing Perry mutter, "Jus' like a blimmin' married couple, I swear."_

* * *

Three, the Builder often ignored her body's signals of distress. Sleep was one thing, but illness and discomfort were different matters.

* * *

"_Malroth!"_

_The man in question had been wandering around Scarlet Sands and making sure no monsters were posing a threat when he heard Babs scream his name. He immediately turned to see the strawberry blonde practically collapse in front of him, panting for air after having sprinted towards him. After making sure she wasn't being followed by a monster, he offered a hand to help her up and she accepted it gratefully._

"_What's wrong?" he asked, and she pointed towards the pyramid._

"_The Builder, she's_—_" But she wasn't even able to finish her sentence; all he heard was 'Builder' and this time, _he_ was the one sprinting._

_It didn't take him long to get to the pyramid where the blonde had been working steadily all day. Sure enough, she was lying face-up in the sand. A few dancers were around her, one holding a glass of digger's jigger to her dry, cracked lips, but the blonde wouldn't respond. Her face looked like it'd been seared by the sun and Malroth immediately fell to his knees at her side, gently slapping her cheek._

"_Oi! Oi, c'mon, get up!"_

_She stirred, wincing as she slowly came to. When she managed to open her eyes, she held a hand up to shield herself from the sun's bright onslaught. Her movements were sluggish and weak, and Malroth's stomach sank. __He hated seeing her like this._

"_Wha… What's going on?" she mumbled. "Where's… my mallet?"_

_Malroth stared at her in disbelief. Her skin was so red that she resembled a crabid, and all she was worried about was the whereabouts of her mallet?_

"_You passed out," one of the dancers piped up. "It's gotta be a 'undred degrees out 'ere."_

"_Heat exhaustion," another said. "Have you had anything to eat or drink lately?"_

"_Uhh.. No…?"_

_Malroth groaned and face-palmed. _"_Dammit, I can't let you out of my sight for five minutes."_

_He scooped the girl into his arms, much to her embarrassment, and she weakly pummeled his chest with her fists as he began walking._

_"Hey, let me down! I have to finish working!"_

"_We're getting you food, you're gonna take a shower and a nap, and then we'll talk about work," he grumbled. "And no more sun for a while till we can get you some medicinal herbs. You gotta stop overworking yourself like this, especially when it's ridiculously hot out."_

"_But_—_"_

"_No buts. And I'm not letting you down till we get to the Inn, so cool your jets."_

"_Malroth!"_

_His eyes flickered down to hers. She was stubborn, he'd give her that, but he wasn't open to negotiation on this._

_"Let me down this instant!" she cried indignantly._

"_No."_

"_Malroth, seriously," she groaned, spotting the two dancers watching them with amusement. Instead of trying to hit him, she instead covered her sunburned face with her hands. "People are staring. It's embarrassing."_

"_That's what you get for making me worry so much," he muttered under his breath, and he didn't realize it, but she blushed at his words._

* * *

Four, while Malroth didn't mind the Builder going off on her own without him, it drove him mad when she'd return all banged-up from taking on battles she shouldn't have tried to fight on her own.

* * *

_Malroth had been on-edge when the Builder mentioned she was heading to the Defiled Isle by herself. He didn't exactly mind it when she went off on her own_—_hell, sometimes even _he_ needed some time for himself, too_—_but there were more powerful monsters on that particular island._

_...Not that the Builder couldn't handle herself in a fight; she could be pretty tough when she needed to be. However, Malroth had gone there with her a few times already, and even he had to admit that some pretty tough foes made their home on the island. It was those times when he was most glad he was freakishly strong; being able to protect his friends, especially his best friend, was something he took pride in._

_After asking her multiple times if she was sure she wanted to go alone, and her equal amount of patient reassurances, he wished her good luck and even saw her off when she left the isle._

_Malroth tried to fill his time with other things. He tried seeing if the other residents needed his help for anything, tried playing with the cute little animals in the petting zoo, even attempted to spar with Digby and Dougie. But anxiety sat in his gut like a rock, and not even winning a few matches against Digby could distract him from worrying over his best friend's well-being._

_(Had she gotten enough sleep before the trip? Did she have enough medicinal herbs? Did she bring enough food with her, just in case? Did she even remember to _bring_ food?!)_

_A full three days passed before anyone heard news of the Builder, which didn't exactly help a certain master of destruction's nerves. When she finally returned, however, whispers of her misadventure spread like wildfire. __Apparently, she'd been perusing the Defiled Isle, trying to mark off everything on her checklist, when a super strong monster appeared. She'd fought valiantly, even managing to get the monster to half-health, but it had proved too strong in the end. She'd sustained some pretty hefty injuries, having run out of medicinal herbs halfway through the battle, and if the Builder hadn't warped back to the docks, she would've been killed._

_Which meant she wouldn't have returned to the Isle of Awakening. __Which meant that Malroth never would have seen her again._

_The thought made him want to vomit._

_After returning to the Isle of Awakening and using the last of her strength to warp to Cerulean Steppe, Anessa and Zara had helped the Builder into the castle, the general giving her the few spare medicinal herbs she'd been carrying. After healing a little bit, the Builder had been escorted to the royal bedchamber where she'd conked out for the rest of the day. She still looked worse for wear, blood caking her nose with some lingering bruises decorating her face and body, but she'd live. At one point, Lulu even came in with a washtub and a towel, helping the Builder clean the blood and gunk off her face. Esther brought her a fresh loaf of bread from the castle kitchen, and then everything faded to black._

_The next time the Builder cracked open her eyes, she was barely conscious when the door was practically kicked open and someone stormed into the room. She jumped and her eyes flew open in alarm, but she relaxed slightly when she realized her visitor was a familiar tan young man. __She didn't notice his angry expression or that his hands were clenched into fists until his gruff voice shattered the silence._

"_You _idiot_!"_

_The Builder's eyes widened again, this time in shock at the ferocity of Malroth's tone, his red eyes burning with fury._

"_What the hell were you thinking, picking a fight with a monster that powerful?! You could've gotten yourself killed!"_

"_But I_—_"_

"_No!" he barked. "You should've let me come with you!"_

_Indignation filled her at his words and she narrowed her eyes. "I know you just want to help, but I can take care of myself!"_

"_Apparently you can't! You almost died out there, and if you hadn't warped out of there at the last minute, you would've gotten slaughtered!"_

"_But I _did _warp out of there! I knew it was dangerous and I knew when to get out of dodge!"_

_He stomped his foot. "That's not the point, dammit! You always do this! You always…"_

_Memories of seeing her hunched over from hunger pains, her cries of pain when she'd gotten struck on the battlefield, all the times she looked exhausted but still ran herself into the ground for the sake of others' happiness... __His eyes remained on the floor momentarily as he angrily shook his head, and when he looked back up at the blonde again, his vision was watery. Something warm and wet slid down his cheek and he realized, for the first time in his life, that he was crying._

_Before the Builder could say or do anything, she suddenly found herself wrapped in his tight embrace, his face buried in her shoulder._

"_Don't _ever _do that again." His rough voice was muffled by her scarf, but vulnerability was crystal clear in his tone. "You hear me? Next time you want to go somewhere dangerous, let me come with you."_

_She sighed. "Malroth_—_"_

"_I know you're strong, okay? I'm not trying to tell you that you can't fight or anything, but I worry, damn it. I worry about you."_

_The blonde blinked. "But… Why?"_

_He pulled back as if she'd struck him, his expression hurt. "What do you mean, 'why'?"_

"_Why do you worry so much about me?" she asked. "I'm not saying you shouldn't and I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, I'm just trying to understand. I'm not fragile, Malroth, I can hold my own in a fight. We've fought a lot of monsters together so you know I'm not weak."_

_He let out a frustrated sigh, pulling back to glare at her. There was no malice in his eyes, however; all she could see was genuine concern. "It's not just about fighting! You don't eat, you don't sleep, you don't listen to your body when it's telling you its had enough… You don't take care of yourself and it pisses me off! I worry about you because _you _don't worry enough about yourself!"_

_She opened her mouth to protest but realized he was right. How many times did she get so into her work that she ignored the growling of her stomach? How many times had she told herself working through the night was okay, and then one night turned into three, and she'd be walking around feeling like a zombie? How many times had Malroth caught her sleeping at her work station, only to carry her back to their house where he could help her into bed, where she could get proper rest? __Malroth had _always_ been beside her every single time; not that the other residents didn't care about her, but he was always the first one at her side, always making sure she stopped and ate, or took a nap, or even carried her off the battlefield when she couldn't fight anymore._

_She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Malroth blushed, confusion replacing his concern. _"_What was that for?"_

"_I'm sorry," she said, finally. "I'm sorry that I worry you so much. The next time I plan to go to an island with strong monsters, I promise, we'll go together."_

"_Good." He huffed. "And you promise you'll start taking better care of yourself?"_

_She smiled weakly. "I'll try my best."_

"_You better." Malroth kissed her forehead, and it was the Builder's turn to blush._

"_But you didn't answer my question before," she pointed out. "Why do you worry so much about me? I know we're best friends and you care about me, but I guess I'm just curious."_

"_Because it's my job as your friend to make sure you're okay." He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "And I meant it when I told you in Furrowfield that it sets me on edge when I see you in a fight. I don't want anything to happen to you."_

"_But what about the eating and sleeping stuff?" Her cobalt eyes searched his curiously. "We're best friends, but if you were really upset, you could've talked to me. You didn't have to shoulder the burden of taking care of me."_

"_I… I don't know!" he huffed, wiping at his damp eyes. "Just… Take better care of yourself, okay?!"_

_He stood up to leave, and when the Builder asked where he was going, he grumbled something about needing fresh air. Just as he left the room, Lulu entered to ensure the Builder had everything she needed._

_When he had a moment to himself, he sighed in frustration and rubbed his hands over his face. She'd definitely given him something to think about. __And her carelessness on the Defiled Isle irritated him, but at least she was okay, at least she was home, safe and sound. That was what mattered most._

* * *

The Builder definitely had some habits that irked Malroth.

As he sat on the edge of a cliff while she worked behind him, setting down railroad tracks to complete a huge railroad for their two favorite miners to enjoy a ride around the isle, he heard that tell-tale growl of her stomach. She groaned softly as she clutched her belly, and he was instantly on his feet, rifling through the small pack Rosie had made specially for him to carry food around. He handed the blonde a carefully-wrapped bowl of grilled fruit.

"Let me guess, you forgot to grab something to eat again?"

The Builder grinned sheepishly as she accepted the food. "Sorry. Thanks for bringing this."

He hummed in response.

"And…" She blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry again for always making you worry. Thanks for looking out for me."

"Of course."

She set down her mallet and other materials and took a bite out of her fruit. Malroth watched her take a few bites with a mix of relief and satisfaction; it was good to see her taking care of herself for once, even if he'd had to remind her to do so.

He was about to resume sitting on the cliff's edge when it occurred to him: why _had_ he worried so much over her? Why did it matter so much to him that she ate and slept and treated herself well? Sure, they were friends and friends looked out for one another, but why did he _fuss_ over her? He never worried like this over Lulu, but to be fair, Lulu took care of herself. Still, though, why did he constantly worry over the Builder's well-being?

And then there was that odd peace he felt when the Builder was at his side, and he constantly thought about her whenever she wasn't. Her smile and those bright blue eyes always made him feel warm and fuzzy inside; alternatively, when she was hurting or upset, he felt sick, and he wanted to right whatever had gone wrong for her. He knew that if anything or anyone dared to hurt her, he'd make them pay dearly.

He'd also noticed over the course of their friendship just how pretty she truly was. Babs was a beautiful woman—anyone with eyes could see that—but the Builder was beautiful as well. Her long blonde hair was always silky-smooth and she had a heart of gold, always trying to do everything for others at the expense of herself. She was beautiful inside and out, and while Malroth could appreciate Babs' beauty, the Builder was the most beautiful girl he knew.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized: Wasn't this… Wasn't this what _love_ was? Wasn't this what the Builder had described to him when he'd asked her about the concept? Wasn't this why all those miners worked themselves ragged for Babs' sake? For love, because they _loved_ Babs?

Then... Did that mean he...?

He was drawn from his thoughts when he realized the Builder was waving a hand in front of his face.

"You okay?"

Malroth nodded absentmindedly. She tilted her head to the side curiously.

"Are you sure? It looks like something serious is on your mind."

Butterflies filled his belly. It _was_ pretty serious, but it was also exciting and nerve-wracking. He'd never felt this way before, but all the evidence was right there in front of his face.

"Do you remember when you asked me why I worry so much about you?" he asked, and she blinked.

"Yeah…?"

"I think I have an answer for you."

"Oh! What is it then?"

Malroth cupped her face and leaned in, kissing her softly. The Builder's eyes grew wide with shock, and when he felt her tense, the destructive man pulled back as if she'd burned him. "S-sorry, I—"

But his words were cut off by the Builder wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his face back down to hers, leaning on her tip-toes to initiate another kiss. Malroth stiffened for a second before melting against her, winding his arms around her waist to hold her close.

He didn't know when he'd started falling in love with the blonde, but somehow, he realized the signs had been there all along, he just hadn't recognized them. He'd always been protective over her because, well, she was his best friend, and she was a _girl_, and while he knew she could definitely take care of herself, he felt naturally protective over her.

At some point, she became much more than a best friend to him. She became someone he cared for deeply, someone he wanted to spend lots of time with, someone who he could talk to for hours without getting bored or annoyed. The Builder had his respect, his loyalty...

...And somehow, she'd won his heart, too.

When they were forced to part for air, the Builder wore the biggest, dopiest smile he'd ever seen, and he was sure his smile matched hers.

Just as the sun began to set, Malroth kissed her again, and decided that while she had a few habits that worried him and got under his skin, she was definitely worth worrying about.


	16. Home is Where the Builder is

**Hi everyone! I hope all of you are healthy and safe amidst all of what's going on in the world right now. Since classes are now online, I've been buried in last-minute coursework, so that's why I've been radio silent for a little while.**

**I have good news though! I've been working on a DQB2 ficlet that I think you guys might enjoy. I might post it under these oneshots or post it as a separate fic (it's actually so long that it might be better to have it be its own story) but either way, you guys will def have it soon. And yes, it will be centered around Malroth and the builder ;)**

**Still working through requests too, so if you've requested something and haven't seen it yet, don't worry**—**I have a list and I've checked it twice, it'll be out no matter if you've been naughty or nice ;P**

**A very special thank you to the anons who recently reviewed (Bookwyrm, Anonymous, and Guest)! I hope these stories make you smile! :D**

* * *

_For a tough guy, Malroth has an interesting weakness aside from starfish._

**Home is Where the Builder is**

"Whoa!" Malroth was grinning ear to ear as he looked at the tall, gorgeous structure before him. "Is this... Is this really _my_ house? Did you really build this for _me_?!"

"Yes sir-ee, it is." The Builder leaned onto the hilt of her mallet, her smile just as brilliant and filled with pride at her creation. "It took me a few days to come up with the layout, but you've got a pretty swanky bathroom, living room, and bedroom inside, and there should be a chest there for you to keep snacks in if you don't feel like heading to Lillian's all the time. Lots of gold went into this place. Oh, and you've got your very own nameplate next to the door, so it's officially your house."

"I _love_ it!" They high-fived and he eagerly entered the house to have a look around. The ambiance was cool, just as he'd requested, and to Malroth's delight, the place was like a mini-palace. It was comprised mostly of castle wall blocks, giving it that royal feel, and the flooring was, as the Builder had said, made of pure gold. Each tile sparkled underneath the light of the candelabras, and the carpeting underneath his boots reminded him of velvet.

The back room, which he quickly deduced to be the bedroom, held a comfy-looking bed complete with plush blankets and fluffy pillows that Malroth couldn't wait to dive onto. There was a brand new set of dumbbells for him to use—she knew him so well—and he was pleased to find a fancy-looking couch sitting across from a fireplace. Along with his very own table, chairs, a planted gladiolus (how did she know that was his favorite flower? She was seriously awesome),

"You've really outdone yourself," he commented, eyes wide with wonder. "You sure you don't want this place for yourself?"

"It's all yours. Besides, mine is already done! We're officially neighbors!" The Builder stretched her arms above her head. "I'm gonna head to Lillian's and grab some dinner. Do you want to join me?"

"Actually, do you mind if I hang back? I could use a shower."

She smiled. "Not at all! Enjoy that shower; I'll see you later, okay?"

Malroth was barely able to nod, too engrossed in checking out his new home.

* * *

The next time the Builder saw her best friend, it was the very next evening and Malroth didn't look as happy as he initially had upon seeing his new house.

She'd tried to catch him in the morning and ask how his first night in his new home had been, but she hadn't been able to find him. Splodger and Captain Whitebones claimed they'd seen him sulking off towards Cerulean Steppe, though they had no idea why he was going there. The Builder had started to head in the direction of the snowy portion of the Isle when Splodger stopped her.

"I don't think it'd be a goo idea to goo after him," the slime wobbled. "He seems to be in a bad mood. Maybe you should let him have some alone slime."

The blonde hesitated, but ultimately decided Splodger was right. Maybe if Malroth was annoyed, it was best to give him space. He knew that if he needed to, he could talk to her; they'd established that after the events of Malhalla. He was well aware that the Builder was not only willing to be a listening ear, she'd help him as best as she could, and honestly, everyone had days where they woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Perhaps Malroth's sour mood was due to simply waking up grumpy.

The Builder passed the day by creating things per usual. Hellen was touched by the Builder's attempt to create a place where the Children of Hargon could still pay tribute to their former faith if they wished, and Griswold was ecstatic to find she'd built him his very own creepy conservatory, where he could continue studying the flora of Malhalla. The Builder also found time to patch up Shane's abandoned ship, gifting it to Captain Whitebones so he could take to the seas again, to which the skeleton soldier pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and thanked her over and over (could skeletons cry? Because she was pretty sure his eye sockets were full of tears at the sight of his brand new ship).

After grabbing dinner at Lillian's and chatting with the other residents of Green Gardens, the Builder retired to her home and went through her evening routine of showering, putting on her pajamas, and brushing out her hair. Once she was ready, she turned off the lantern on her nightstand and snuggled under the covers of her bed, practically falling asleep the second her head hit the pillow. A long day of building always made for an easy time getting to sleep.

It was the middle of the night when the Builder was coaxed back into the waking world by a knocking sound. Most of her room was enveloped in inky darkness, thin slivers of moonlight peeking in past the curtains she'd put up a few nights ago. Malroth's home was grand and luxurious, almost as luxurious as Lulu's (the pinkette, of course, had more ambitious demands), but the Builder's was simple and rather small. It resembled more of a log cabin, kind of like the ones she'd built for Perry and Rosie. She could build herself a castle if she wanted, but she preferred cozy simplicity. That was all her family had been able to afford back when she'd lived in Cantlin, after all.

Another knock sounded at her door. She'd been teetering between consciousness and unconsciousness, her mind fuzzy with dreams yet also not quite delving into REM sleep. The blonde sat up at the third, slightly quieter knock, and yawned. She briefly wondered who could be up at this hour; Scarlet Sands always hosted parties that went on until the wee hours of morning, but no one in Green Gardens or Cerulean Steppe stayed up past ten o'clock. Judging by the moon's position outside, it had to be heading for one in the morning.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and made her way to the door, careful not to trip over the boots she'd lazily kicked off earlier. Upon opening her door, she was surprised to find a familiar spiky-haired young man standing in front of her. He looked very much awake and very much annoyed, but as soon as his gaze lifted to hers, his expression softened. Malroth's ruby-red eyes probably would have terrified other people, especially at this time of night since they had a certain glow to them, but the Builder thought they looked rather pretty in the moonlight.

"Hey," he greeted, quickly giving her a once-over. "Were you sleeping? I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"No, no, I wasn't," she lied, barely able to suppress the traitorous yawn that threatened to escape her. "What's up?"

He blinked and looked away, earning the Builder's curiosity. She'd never known her best friend to be shy or meek; what could be causing him to feel this way now?

"I, uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "I was just wondering... Do you have a spare bed or something that I can sleep on?"

At that, it was the Builder's turn to blink. "A spare bed?"

"Yeah. Or actually, can I just sleep on the floor? At this point, I don't care."

"Is something wrong with the bed I made you?"

"No, nothing like that." He wouldn't stop fidgeting, as if he was very uncomfortable with what he was trying to ask. "It's just, uh... I can't sleep."

"Oh! Is the mattress too firm or too soft? If so, I can make a different one."

"There's nothing wrong with what you made for me, it's just..." Malroth sighed in frustration. "I don't know how to say it. It's kind of embarrassing."

She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. "Why don't we talk inside then? We'll have more privacy that way."

He hesitated, then obliged her. As the Builder closed the door behind them, he took the opportunity to take in his new surroundings. Since she'd tossed up her own house, he hadn't really been able to see much of the interior. It was definitely simplistic, with the only luxuries being a plush bed and a sofa; everything else was made of wood, mirroring the houses she'd built on Furrowfield. It suited her; she didn't strike him as the type to shower herself in diamonds and gold.

"Wow... This is your house, right?"

"Yep! Just finished it a few days ago."

"It's nice. Very cozy." Malroth almost seemed sad, but maybe it was just her imagination.

"Thanks." She motioned to the couch. "So, are we gonna talk about my house or are we gonna talk about why you can't sleep?"

"Right. Sorry." Malroth sat down, still fiddling with his hands. "Okay, um... I dunno how to say this without sounding like a total wimp."

"You know I don't judge, so fire away." What could possibly have Malroth uncomfortable? Was Hargon somehow messing with his mind again? Was that even possible after they'd defeated the evil version of Malroth and the unholy High Priest? Or was he having nightmares again, because sometimes he did have some pretty horrific dreams where—

Malroth mumbled something too quickly for her to make out.

"What was that?"

He mumbled it again. The Builder raised an eyebrow.

"Mal, if you want me to help you, you're going to have to speak up—"

"I said I can't sleep without you next to me!" he barked. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were slightly red with embarrassment. "There, _happy_?"

The Builder stared dumbly at him for a moment before she cocked her head to the side. "You can't sleep without me next to you?"

"Look, I don't know why, but I can't catch a wink of sleep when you're not around," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest as he looked away. "Don't get me wrong, I love the house you made for me, it's perfect, right down to every last detail, but it... It doesn't feel like home when... when _you're_ not there."

His eyes were trained on a bookcase that sat just beneath a window looking out over the fields. He refused to look at her, but if he had, he would've seen the blush that painted her cheeks.

"I know it sounds lame," Malroth continued. "But I'm pretty sure that's the issue. I... I don't like being away from you, alright? I'm not clingy and you know I'm not touchy-feely, but it feels weird to not sleep next to you every night when we used to sleep side-by-side all the time."

"Are you worried something might happen to me if you're not around?" she asked. Malroth was her self-proclaimed bodyguard, so it made sense that even in times of peace, he'd still unconsciously try to look after her.

"No, I mean—I-I don't know, maybe." He began drumming his claw-like fingernails against the table's surface. "We haven't had an attack from Hargon's forces since we defeated him, and we've got more than enough people to protect this island."

When he thought about it, his words weren't entirely truthful; yes, they had more than enough capable fighters guarding the Isle of Awakening, but none of them could ever dream of possessing the strength _he_ had. If anyone else tried to guard the Builder, he'd be on-edge the entire time; he preferred protecting her himself, that way, he knew for certain she'd be safe. But that was mushy and lame, wasn't it? Malroth didn't do mushy and lame. "Look, I-I don't know how to properly explain it. All I know is that when you're next to me, I can sleep, but when you're not, sleep evades me."

There were a few heartbeats of silence. Malroth still refused to meet her eyes, though he did glance up at her face a few times. She wasn't looking at him with amusement, which was good considering he wasn't sure how he'd feel if she laughed at him. Her expression was, for once, unreadable, and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"You could spend the night here," she offered finally, breaking the semi-awkward silence. "I don't have a spare bed, but mine is big enough for the both of us. Is that okay, or do you want me to whip up a spare bed real quick?"

"No, that's fine." He sighed and ran a hand over his face tiredly. "As long as I can, uh... As long as I can sleep next to you, I should be fine. I have to get up early because I promised Anessa I'd help her train a few new soldiers, and I'll be useless to them if I'm exhausted."

"Then it's settled: you're more than welcome to bunk in with me." A cheerful smile lit up her face. "It'll be like old times!"

Malroth nodded, but his expression still appeared somewhat troubled. Her smile dimmed somewhat.

"Seriously, if you're not comfortable sharing a bed with me, I don't mind whipping up a spare. It'll take me, like, five minutes, tops."

"It's not that," he replied, and truthfully, she wasn't the worst person in the world to sleep beside. Actually, if he was being one-hundred percent honest, he secretly liked waking up next to her, but she didn't need to know that. "It's the fact that this kind of thing shouldn't _be_ a thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't just crash at your pad all the time."

She giggled softly. "Why not? It'll be like having a whole bunch of sleepovers. I can even sleep at your house once in a while if you ever want to change things up. I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere."

"I don't wanna get on your nerves," he elaborated. "And I know that sooner or later, we'll get annoyed with each other. The last time we had a fight, it was pretty ugly."

"The last time we had a fight, it was because we had a traitor working against us. Moonbrooke was..." At the memory of Warwick's insistence that oh yes, a jail cell was _completely_ necessary, and yes, Malroth was _such_ a danger, the blonde shook her head, exhaling through her nose. She reminded herself that all of that was in the past, it didn't matter now. "Anyway, my point is that I don't mind if you don't mind. My house is always open if you want to sleep here. I don't think I'd mind having you around a lot; you're the one person who _never_ gets on my nerves."

He nodded slowly. That was a fair answer. "What about the house you built for me?"

"What about it?"

Malroth expected her to be upset. "You spent so much time on it and you put all that work into it. Aren't you mad at me for not being able to sleep there?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "When I make stuff for people, it's up to them if they decide to make use of it. Besides, I know you're not doing it to be spiteful, and houses can be used for more than just a place to rest your head; you can use it to have some quiet time, work out, whatever you want. It's completely up to you how you decide to use it."

The destructive young man was about to ask if she was really okay with him bunking in with her when a yawn escaped him. The blonde smiled.

"We can continue discussing all of this tomorrow, but for now, maybe we should hit the hay. You have to get up early and I'm running on maybe three hours of sleep as it is." Without waiting for his response, she took his hand and led him towards her bed. Upon settling under the covers, Malroth found that her bed was just as comfortable as his own, and with her right by his side like she'd always been, his eyelids finally felt heavy. He always felt more at ease around her. He had no idea why, but just knowing she was right there beside him made him feel at peace.

"Good night, Mal," was the last thing he heard before he heard before he fell asleep. "See you in the morning."

* * *

The next morning, Malroth woke up much earlier than the Builder did, and by the time she finally cracked open her eyes, he was long gone. She had no idea when he'd be back, but he'd been kind enough to make his side of the bed.

As she began to go through her morning routine of getting ready for the day, she thought about their late-night conversation. The blonde was still surprised at Malroth's confession that he didn't like sleeping without her. It wasn't something that bothered her—truth be told, she thought it was adorable that he preferred sleeping next to her. She did wonder, however, if this sleeping habit meant something more: was this an indicator that maybe he was crushing on her? Or was it just simple habit? Maybe Malroth didn't like change, maybe he'd gotten so used to a specific routine (i.e. sleeping beside, and protecting, the Builder) that any changes made him feel out of sorts.

He was a man of many surprises, it seemed, yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized his sleeping preference wasn't a surprise at all. Throughout their adventures, the signs had been there all along: how many times had she gone to bed alone, only to wake up and see Malroth snoring away beside her? Whenever she went to bed, he followed shortly after. There had been multiple occasions when the Builder had gone to bed early, her mind and body exhausted from building without taking a break, and no more than she fell onto her bed, Malroth would be busting into the room, shaking off his boots and immediately getting into the bed next to hers (which, now that she thought about it, was kind of funny). No matter what bed she chose, he always chose the one directly beside her, and there were times when, if Malroth _didn't_ grab the bed next to hers, he'd be in a grumpy mood the following morning.

The Builder could have face-palmed; absolutely _none_ of this was a surprise, she just hadn't been able to really think about it before.

* * *

_**Exhibit One: Fascinating Finds on Furrowfield**_

_The Builder supposed she could understand it. After all, she was the first person Malroth had ever spoken to (that he remembered, anyway). She was the first person to wake up after the shipwreck and she was the first person to give him a gift. Maybe he just felt so comfortable around her that he preferred sleeping close to _her_, of all people._

_Every night, he and Britney would stay up late to fend off evil spirits looking to reap souls. The Builder sometimes stayed up with them and helped as best she could, but other times, she was too worn out to do much except drag herself to the small agricultural bedroom she'd made for the farmers. There, on the uncomfortable straw beds, she'd toe off her boots, make herself as comfortable as she could manage, and then she'd pass out until early the next morning, when Rosie and the others would begin their day. __Yet, the Builder noticed that no matter what time she decided to hit the hay (pun intended), a certain someone always managed to curl up beside her._

_That someone was, of course, Malroth._

_Sometimes, without even thinking about it, she'd choose a straw bed next to one of the farmers, yet by morning, the person she'd fallen asleep next to would not be beside her as she'd expected; Malroth would be right there as if he'd been there to begin with. Whoever had been lying beside her would mysteriously wake up in another bed, unbothered and ready to start the day all the same. Every morning, without fail, Malroth would wake up beside her, stretch his limbs, and grin toothily while greeting her with a "good morning."_

_She wasn't sure what to make of this, but she didn't pay too much attention to it; she had bigger things to worry about and if Malroth preferred sleeping beside her, that was fine. He didn't snore in her ear like Lulu had on their first night as castaways on the Isle of Awakening, and his presence was rather soothing. There was a certain sense of security one had after getting to know the tough young man, and it was this sense of security that led to the Builder getting the proper rest she needed to keep up with everyone's building demands._

_After a week of Malroth suddenly popping up next to her in the mornings and hearing him settle down next to her in the evenings, no matter how late or early, the Builder asked him about it._

_"Don't make mountains out of mole hills," he had chuckled. "It's not a conscious behavior, at least not all the time. I sleep beside you because when you're up, I need to be up. Who else is going to protect you when you leave the base? Someone's gotta keep an eye on you and that 'someone' is me."_

_That was plausible, and for the most part, it satisfied the Builder's curiosity. B__ut even after that, even after they brought peace back to Furrowfield and even after they all returned to the Isle of Awakening, where Malroth didn't need to watch out for her as much, the behavior persisted. In the small bedroom she'd created for their farming friends, Malroth still, without fail, chose to sleep in the bed right next to hers._

_**Exhibit Two: The Case of Khrumbul-Dun**_

_The Builder yawned and rubbed her eyes, sleep weighing heavily upon her body. Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose, damp waves, her body finally clean from its former coating of soot, dirt, and sweat. She enjoyed working in the Khrumbul-Dun mines alongside the miners, but she didn't enjoy having to scrub her skin raw in an attempt to get all the muck off her body._

_Her whole body ached from constantly having to smash into veins of copper, iron, and silver. She was not used to working herself overtime, which was ironic considering how many all-nighters she'd been pulling since getting shipwrecked on the Isle of Awakening. The Builder was small-framed and so fighting monsters and smashing into ore was enough to make her want to sleep for a week. In fact, if the Children of Hargon weren't constantly sending scouts to tear into their little town, she might have considered taking a week to rest her sore muscles._

_As the blonde neared the new, much swankier inn, she spotted Malroth sipping a digger's jigger at the silver bar. Most of it had been completed and everyone was enjoying the pool immensely. Khrumbul-Dun had been suffering one heck of a heatwave lately, making the cold water of the pool a goddess-send. The Builder's spiky-haired friend had his back turned to her as he chatted with Den, their conversation playful if she had to guess from the bartender's resulting guffaws._

_Another yawn interrupted her observation and so she continued towards the inn, flopping down onto one of the beds once inside. Her body felt like dead weight as soon as she hit the soft mattress, the stress of the day leaving her back in one big wave as her eyes fell shut. The builder didn't even have the strength to pull the thin sheet up around herself, for sleep took her quickly._

_A sliver of bright sunshine landing on her face is what woke the blonde the very next morning._

_She cracked open her eyes and blinked. Had tomorrow truly arrived? Had she really slept through the night? It only felt like minutes ago that she'd fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, yet her body did indeed feel well-rested. __When she sat up, a quick glance around indicated that most everyone was still asleep. Some miners were snoring loudly while others were quieter. She briefly wondered where Malroth had fallen asleep until she heard a yawn beside her._

_Sure enough, Malroth had fallen asleep in the bed right next to the one she'd chosen. He sat up and yawned again, covering his mouth with his hand as he stretched his other arm above his head._

_"Still... So... Sleepy," he murmured. Once he'd woken up a little more, he offered a grin to the Builder. "Morning."_

_"Did you stay up late last night?" she asked in a hushed tone. From what she saw of the previous evening, Malroth had been enjoying himself and easing his stresses by putting his feet up at the silver bar. She'd gone to bed, yes, but he hadn't appeared tired at all, and usually the miners went to bed before he did. Malroth preferred staying up a little longer to patrol the perimeter of their base for any potential threats. By all rights, the Builder should have woken up squished between two burly miners._

_"No, I went to bed right after you did." Malroth swung his legs over the edge of the bed and began to pull his boots on. Once that was done, he shrugged his jacket on and began to make the bed. It was kind of funny when the Builder thought about it; he could be so rude, yet so well-mannered._

_As the other miners began to stir from their sleep—and stir they did once Dougie burst into the inn and shouted, "Get up, lads, we've got diggin' to do!"—the Builder watched Malroth take his leave._

_It was only after the inn had cleared out—it was best to lounge around and allow the miners space to scramble out since they would probably accidentally bowl her over in their haste to grab breakfast—that the Builder noticed the thin sheet she'd been too tired to pull over herself had, in fact, been pulled up around her. Her fingers played with the edge of it absentmindedly as she wondered who had been kind enough to do such a thing. She had a sneaking suspicion Malroth, who had yet again somehow woken up beside her, had been sweet enough to tuck her in, but as the day began around her, she realized she didn't have time to think about all this._

_She had stuff to build._

_**Exhibit Three: More Musings on Moonbrooke**_

_It was cold, bitterly cold in Moonbrooke, and not just from the swirling storms that plagued the island._

_No one was safe, not even within the walls of the newly-built castle. Between those who mourned the recent deaths and the frequent talk of betrayal and suspicion among the ranks of soldiers, "cold" was a pretty good description of the war-torn island. Snow constantly fell in thick flakes and stuck to every surface it managed to find while biting winds found ways to slip through cracks in castle wall blocks. The young woman in question shivered and wrapped her cloak tighter around herself in an attempt to stave out the cold as she made her way to the barracks._

_Most of the soldiers and royal guard were either eating their fill in the castle cafeteria or training under Anessa's instruction. The world was quiet, for once; between the increased attacks from the Children of Hargon and scrambling to build up new defenses, the Builder couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten more than an hour of sleep. It would be nice to actually get a full-night's rest._

_She entered the barracks and was delighted to find that she was the first one to turn in this particular evening. She chose the bed she usually chose, the one closest to the fireplace, and quickly got under the covers. Even with the fire roaring nearby, she couldn't shake the chill that had entered her bones from working nonstop on the outer walls. They had finally built up enough defenses that they'd be able to hold off the Hair Force. The Builder still needed to figure out what kind of special weapon they'd need to successfully defeat the hairy monstrosities that kept trying to lay them low, but that could wait until tomorrow, when her mind and body were refreshed._

_The blonde closed her eyes for what felt like five minutes. It must have been the middle of the night when she reopened them, brought back to the waking world for some unknown reason. The Builder didn't understand what had pulled her from her dreams; most of the soldiers were asleep in the nearby beds, none of them snoring too loudly, and the fire was still going strong so she wasn't awake from it being too cold._

_Actually, she was warm, _very_ warm, like she was curled up right beside the fire. Since she'd first set foot on this frozen wasteland they called Moonbrooke, the blonde couldn't remember ever feeling so comfortably cozy. She wanted to go back to sleep and she would have—for once, she wasn't shivering, so why question it?— but something behind her moved. Upon trying to sit up, the blonde realized that action was impossible because the 'something' behind her had an arm wrapped around her._

_Something, no, _someone_, was currently cuddling her._

_The Builder turned to see who the heck was curled up close to her and was surprised to find Malroth snuggled close to her. He was fast asleep and one of his arms was wrapped loosely around her waist, his fingers occasionally twitching as he dreamed. He shifted slightly, his brows furrowing for a second before relaxing again, clearly undisturbed by his friend's movement. He'd somehow rolled from his bed onto hers, and she wasn't sure if the move had been conscious or unconscious, but either way, Malroth seemed quite content to be curled up around her._

I never took him for a cuddler,_ the Builder thought, suppressing a giggle. It was nice to see his normally thunderous expression relaxed for once, as if he were at peace. Then again, they were in a war zone, i.e. they were right smack in his element. Of _course_ he'd be super comfortable here._

Figures that the one island I'm most stressed out on is the one he relates to_, she mused. She settled back against his chest as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb her best friend, and decided she rather liked being this close to Malroth. Not only was he warm, but she felt safe with him. With all this talk of betrayal and the deaths they'd witnessed, he was the one person she knew she could trust completely._

_As her eyelids grew heavy and she began to fall back asleep, she could have sworn she felt his grip around her waist tighten, his face nuzzling into her shoulder as he hugged her closer to himself._

* * *

_One evening, after a particularly harrowing battle against the Air Force, the Builder dragged herself to the barracks. There were only two beds left, as all the others were taken, and so she chose the one closest to her—it was the one next to Warwick, of all people. He was fast asleep and didn't stir when the Builder let herself fall onto her bed, unconsciousness quickly pulling her under its inky depths. She just barely heard the door open and close, someone immediately heading towards her, then stopping in their tracks. She thought she heard a frustrated scoff before the world went black._

_The next morning, the sun was out, thank the goddess, and so it was a little less cold than usual. Everyone met for breakfast in the castle cafeteria, stuffing their faces with baked potatoes and some leftover soldier's stew. The Builder was surprised to find Malroth in a foul mood, barely touching his food and wearing a scowl that caused many to give him a wide berth lest they suffer his wrath. After being briefed by Anessa, Warwick, and the king about how the Air Force fortifications were coming along, the Builder managed to catch him alone._

_"Hey," she greeted, and to her relief, his scowl lessened somewhat. "You okay?"_

_"Yeah, why?"_

_"You look a little..." She tried to find the right way to say it, but after Malroth blinked at her, she blurted, "You look totally pissed off."_

_At that, his expression softened completely, all traces of annoyance gone. "I do?"_

_She nodded. "Did something happen that I'm unaware of?"_

_"Not at all. Sorry, I just didn't sleep well last night."_

_"Oh." The Builder could understand that. Yesterday's battle had been frustrating. Maybe Malroth had been up late trying to figure out new battle strategies._

_After chatting with him a little longer, they both met with Anessa and Warwick to discuss ways to take down the Air Force. __It didn't escape the Builder's notice that while Warwick had everyone's attention and proposed different ideas, with Anessa and the king occasionally chiming in with ideas of their own, Malroth eyed the bluenette with slight animosity. It made the Builder wonder if something had happened between them, or if Malroth just straight-up disliked Warwick._

_Later that evening, after they'd made more progress on the fortifications and made plans to visit the poison swamps, the Builder decided to turn in early. Once she was about to fall asleep, she thought she heard a peculiar conversation._

_"What are you doing?" She'd recognize Malroth's sharp voice anywhere._

_"Uh... I'm going to sleep?" Was that Warwick?_

_"Not by her. That's where _I_ sleep."_

_There was a sound, not loud enough to concern her, but enough to indicate someone had taken a hasty step back._

_"I see. I-I think I'll find another bed, then."_

_"Good choice."_

_The last thing the Builder heard was someone scurrying off, and someone else climbing into the bed beside hers._

* * *

The blonde wanted to face-palm. Yup, the signs had been right under her nose the entire time, she'd just never given them a second thought. She'd been so busy focusing on helping the people of Furrowfield, Khrumbul-Dun, and Moonbrooke that she hadn't noticed how Malroth _had_ to be the one next to her at all times. The more she thought about it, the more it made her blush.

She had no idea what to make of Malroth's intriguing sleep preferences, but one thing was for sure: she didn't mind sharing a room with him, and no matter how many sleepovers he wanted to have, she'd oblige him. Besides, they'd spent countless nights sleeping side-by-side; what were a few more nights?

* * *

It had been a month since Malroth approached the Builder about his sleeping preference, and ever since, he slept over almost every single night. In that time, they'd grown closer than before if that was even possible. Malroth initially slept facing away from her, but as time went on, she frequently woke up to his body curled protectively around hers. He never seemed to think it weird and the Builder never brought it up; she went with it, and honestly, cuddling with Malroth was pretty nice. She liked snuggling up to him and he seemed to feel the same way towards her.

One morning, after Malroth left early to visit Scarlet Sands for the day, the blonde was struck by an idea. Malroth preferred sleeping close to her, sure, but he'd also expressed concern over his house—namely, he was afraid of offending her by not using it much. What if they _shared_ a house? That would certainly be a viable solution to Malroth's dilemma. She could figure out a way to combine their homes so that Malroth still had his own space, yet they'd still be able to sleep side-by-side.

Why hadn't she thought of this before?

The Builder was just about to head for Scarlet Sands to hunt down her best friend and see if he'd be okay with the idea of them sharing a house when the front door opened and Malroth stepped inside. He'd been in a rather chipper mood since he'd started sleeping next to her, and today was no exception.

"There you are," he greeted. "Wanna join me at the oasis? The water's excellent and Digby challenged me to a chicken fight: you and me against him and Babs. You in?"

"I'd love to," she replied, giggling. It was the third week of summer and a dip in the oasis sounded like heaven. Plus, the last time they had a chicken fight, Babs had upstaged Dougie's attempt at showing his strength by being the one to hold _him_ up on _her_ shoulders. The miner still got teased for it sometimes whenever Scarlet Sands held a pool party, though he took all teasing in stride—in fact, he was proud of Babs for being that strong!

"What are you waiting for, then? Let's go!" Malroth took her hand and tried to lead her outside, but she shook her head.

"I would, but I kind of have a new project at hand."

He paused, letting go of her hand. "Oh... What are you working on?"

"It depends on your answer." She blushed. "How do you feel about us becoming roommates?"

"Roommates?" At her nod, he beamed. "Sounds great to me!"

"You mean it?"

"Hell yeah!" Then, after a moment, "but how are you planning to do that? We both have our own separate houses. Are you going to demolish one of them?"

The Builder glanced around her living room. It would take some careful thought, but maybe, just maybe...

"I've got an idea," she announced. "So you should totally go back to the oasis, kill some time, and then come back later, okay?"

"But I wanna see what you're planning!"

"It'll be a surprise," she winked. "And don't worry! I won't demolish any of your stuff, scout's honor. Go have fun!"

With that, she maneuvered her best friend out the door, ignoring his halfhearted protests, closed the door after she'd gently pushed him outside, and grabbed her sketchbook. It was time to get everything sorted out.

* * *

When Malroth returned to Green Gardens, he felt a sense of deja vu at the beautiful house before him, only it wasn't just his house he was looking at: his home was now attached to the Builder's, with the only difference being that her home was now made of castle blocks instead of wood. There was an upstairs level complete with a deck, a glass sliding door, and two windows that looked like they offered a great view of Green Gardens' entirety. She'd even taken the liberty of planting a few flowers and bushes in front of the house.

"Whoa.." he muttered. No matter what the blonde built, she always managed to impress him more and more.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?"

Speak of the pretty devil, she emerged from the bottom level, her trusty sketchbook in hand. The Builder grinned, coming to stand beside her best friend so she could admire her creation as well.

"Is this...?"

"This is our new house!" she exclaimed proudly. "You've still got your own room and a private bathroom, and I've still got my own room, but since you like sleeping close to me, I put both of our beds upstairs in a combined master bedroom. We've also got our very own kitchen and dining room, so if we don't feel like making the trek to Lillian's, we'll have everything we need to make dinner on our own."

"Builder, this is incredible!" 'Incredible' didn't even begin to cover Malroth's shock and delight. She'd truly outdone herself on this one; he couldn't wait to get inside and see how everything looked, especially this new combined bedroom of theirs.

He turned to her and they high-fived. "How on earth did you think of all this?"

"I figured since we'd be sharing a house, why not go all-out?" She motioned towards the deck. "Plus, if we're going to be sharing a room, why not have a room with a view?"

"You really do think of everything," Malroth mused aloud. "You're amazing."

The Builder grinned. "Thanks! You up for a grand tour or are you too tired from swimming all day?"

She laughed when it was Malroth who took _her_ hand, leading her into the house so she could show him all the changes she'd made.

* * *

The Builder stirred and cracked open her bleary eyes to see the entire room blanketed in darkness. Judging by the indigo skies outside, dawn would be approaching in a few hours. She didn't have any upcoming projects (that she knew of, anyway), but she still liked being able to sleep in without anything interrupting her.

_Why am I awake?_

She wondered, briefly, if perhaps it was because this room, while familiar and filled with both her things and Malroth's, was technically a new space. She was used to the tiny, rustic interior of her original room; this new one offered a taste of luxury that suited Malroth's preferences. She, herself, didn't mind what kind of room she had, because as long as she had her own bed, that was all that mattered.

The entire house itself was kind of swanky, if she was being honest. A kitchen, a dining room, a living room, two separate bathrooms, and a training room for Malroth made for a pretty great home. They had everything they needed (Malroth was _stoked_ to have his own space to train and practice fighting) and each room was a work of art.

Perhaps she just wasn't used to being in this new, non-tiny room. Maybe, on a primal level, she was on-edge because of how unfamiliar it was, and if that was the case, then her best bet was to try to get some rest anyway; eventually, she'd acclimate to this new space. Her mother had once told her that sleeping in a new house was always difficult the first few nights, and so, while keeping that advice in mind, the Builder decided to try to go back to sleep.

As she shifted, trying to get comfortable again, she realized two things: one, her blankets had somehow become warm enough to rival the heat of a furnace, reminding her of when a certain _someone_ would cuddle her back in Moonbrooke, and two, it felt like something was wrapped around her waist. The Builder lifted the blanket to see that yes, something _was_ wrapped around her waist—it was Malroth's arm. He was spooning her from behind, his arm wrapped loosely around her midsection, and his face was buried into her shoulder. He seemed as content as could be, his expression that of peace.

The Builder was amazed. She'd purposely placed both of their beds in this room so that he'd be able to sleep on his own, figuring that although he seemed to enjoy cuddling with her, he'd probably like to have an entire bed all to himself. She'd never anticipated that he preferred sleeping curled up _right next to_ her like this. Sometime after she'd conked out, he must've pushed his bed close to hers because now both mattresses were squished together to make one huge bed.

...Not that she minded, of course. Secretly, she loved it when Malroth got all cuddly like this. To other people, he could be quite intimidating, but with her, only ever with her, he was a big teddy bear. A teddy bear that could maul anyone who dared try to hurt her, but a teddy bear nonetheless.

"Builder?" Malroth stirred, but his eyes remained closed.

"Yes, Mal?"

"Wha'sa matter?" His voice was thick with drowsiness, and the Builder couldn't help but smile. For someone as tough as he was, he could be really adorable.

"Nothing," she replied, smoothing back a few stray hairs from his face. "I'm just readjusting, go back to sleep."

He obliged after grumbling softly, and as the Builder settled back down beside him, she felt his hold on her waist tighten slightly, his nose nuzzling affectionately into her spine.

Zara had once mentioned that Malroth was terrified of starfish, hadn't she? As the Builder closed her eyes, reveling in Malroth's protective embrace, she realized the master of destruction had another weakness. Some folks needed to sleep with a nightlight on, others liked to have a glass of water nearby...

And Malroth? He just couldn't fall asleep without cuddling his favorite builder.


	17. Pumpkin Peril

**Finals are over, woooo! Finally got some time to get these oneshots done. ****Credit for this idea goes to Bookwyrm. You asked for Malroth and the pumpkin shenanigans courtesy of Perry—ask and ye shall receive! I hope this did your idea justice :D**

**To StormfernOfUnderClan: thank you for reading! and no worries, I will post the first chapter on here for you guys both as a preview and to let you know when it's up :)**

**To Ja ne Kat: thank you for your kind words! And ooh, those are some good ideas... Especially the one where he outlives her, I think that would break all of our hearts but it's also a realistic concept. We don't really know whether Malroth is a regular human after all is said and done, so who knows? Maybe he won't age like the rest of his friends, and that is an absolute tragedy (but a good tragedy to write about!). Thank you for sharing! ^_^**

* * *

_Perry knew the risks, but some risks were worth taking._

**Pumpkin Peril**

It was a beautiful day on Furrowfield—the sun was shining, the Deitree was flourishing, and the land around Rosie's farm was green and healthy. As the farmers went about completing their chores, the Builder was hard at work crafting things. The harvest festival would be held that very night, and so everyone was scrambling to finish up last-minute preparations.

Malroth and the Builder were off on some small adventure to gather more building resources. The blonde had been talking about putting up more bunting and renovating the kitchen, and so they'd left early that morning to see what they could find. While Pastor Al stuck close to the Deitree, admiring its gentle power, a certain cowardly, copper-haired farmer was lost in thought.

All of the costumes had been designed and made by Perry himself, and he was excited to see everyone all dressed up like the old days... even though he couldn't remember anyone dressing up, nor could he remember the "old days." Nevertheless, while he was greatly anticipating seeing his own hard work pay off (why stop at pumpkin masks? Maybe they could make some sort of pumpkin clothes! The sky was the limit with building), he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Malroth didn't want to wear a costume.

For someone who was ready for anything, battle or building, Malroth sure could be a party pooper.

Perry had been trying to think of ways to convince the tougher male to take part in the festival, but he couldn't come up with anything good. Most of the scenarios he imagined ended up with Malroth punting him into the distance, that is if the spiky-haired male didn't twist him into a pretzel first. Perry shuddered at the thought.

There had to be a way to get Malroth to wear a costume. They were just pumpkins, after all; it wasn't like they all had to don three-piece suits and frilly dresses.

Perry ran a hand over his face tiredly. This was certainly a dilemma. How did the Builder get Malroth to follow her around? How did she get him to do _anything_? Maybe if he asked her, she'd have some kind of advice; after all, if anyone would know how to appeal to Malroth, it'd be her.

Before he could set his plan in action, there was a light tap on his shoulder. Perry jumped and turned to see Rosie, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Did you finish watering the tomato plants early?"

"Oh," he nodded dumbly. "Yes'm, I did. Actually, if you 'ave a moment, I need your opinion on somethin'."

"What is it?"

"Malroth said 'e didn't wanna wear a costume for the 'arvest festival, but I've bin thinkin'..."

She tilted her head to the side. "He doesn't want to wear a costume?"

"No, even said so 'imself."

"Hmm..." Rosie tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose if he doesn't want to, that's okay."

"What?!" Perry became indignant. "But we all worked so 'ard! It's tradition, Rosie—everyone gets all fancied up and we dance the night away!"

"Well, yes, but we shouldn't force anyone to do what they don't want to do."

Perry faltered. She _did_ have a point...

"...But you're right," she continued, "everyone worked hard to get to this point, so we should all let loose and have fun, Malroth included."

"'Ow do you propose we get 'im to comply?"

"I..." Rosie hummed. "That's a good question. You already asked him, so that's out... Have you asked the Builder what she thinks?"

"She took off this mornin', I 'aven't seen either of 'em. I don't think they're gonna be back 'til later, and by then, everyone'll already be in costume."

She hummed again. "This is quite a pickle, then..."

For a few minutes, they stood in silence, both trying and failing to come up with ideas to get Malroth to join into the pumpkin-themed festivities. Then, Perry straightened.

"I've got it!" A mischievous gleam danced in his eyes. "What if I _shoved_ a pumpkin on 'is 'ead?"

Rosie gasped. "You wouldn't."

"It's the 'arvest festival, 'course I would."

"What if it hurt him?"

"Are you kiddin'?" Perry puffed out his chest in a way that was supposed to make him look brave, but instead made him look goofy. "I'm the best pumpkin carver this farm's ever seen! I can carve somethin' big enough for Malroth's 'ead, it won't 'urt 'im at all. An' besides, I don't think anythin' could 'urt Malroth, 'e's tough as nails."

"He's gonna be mad if you do that to him," Rosie chuckled incredulously, shaking her head. "You'd better hope this goes well, otherwise you'll have a pumpkin shoved onto _your_ head."

"That's the point!" The cowardly farmer grinned. "Everyone's gonna 'ave a pumpkin 'ead. I already got mine picked out an' carved."

"You're not scared of his reaction?"

At that, Perry's bravado faded somewhat. "Don't get me wrong, I'm blimmin' terrified 'e'll throttle me, but we've all worked 'ard for this festival, so everyone should wear a costume—including Malroth 'imself."

"So, how do you plan on carrying all of this out?"

"I dunno yet," he admitted. "But I guess it's a good thing lunch is 'ere. I got some thinkin' to do!"

* * *

Just as both farmers had predicted, everyone was putting on their costumes by the time Malroth and the Builder returned. It was practically nighttime and the jack o'lanterns made the farm look downright spooky—if not acting as a testament to all their hard work and efforts.

It was when everyone was almost finished putting on their pumpkins, the Builder included, that Perry decided to put his plan into action. He'd spent a good portion of his breakfast thinking of how he'd execute Operation Pumpkin-Malroth, and after careful consideration, he knew what he needed to do. He grabbed the pumpkin that was specially carved to fit Malroth's head, and he looked towards the young tree the Builder had planted a little while ago.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it!" Perry announced loudly, drawing the attention of everyone around him. Even Pastor Al, who had been meditating on the Deitree, turned to cast a curious glance at the wimpy man.

With a great battle cry (okay, so maybe it wasn't a battle cry; more of a yelp), Perry lifted one of the pre-carved pumpkins and took off towards a certain young man who was napping underneath a tree. Malroth had barely cracked open his eyes at the sound of the comical battle cry when Perry lifted the pumpkin high, then brought it down onto the mightier male's head with force.

Malroth cried out in a mix of surprise and outrage. "What the _fuck_?!"

The ones who had been watching the scene either burst into laughter or looked on in shock as he sprang to his feet, stumbling and tripping over himself in a desperate attempt to get the huge vegetable off his head. It was a little crooked and Perry managed to get close and readjust it, just barely jumping out of the way when Malroth swatted at him.

"PERRYYYY!" he roared.

All he could hear through the pumpkin was cheerful, albeit nervous laughter. "It's for a good cause, Mister Malroth! 'Appy 'Arvest Festival!"

"I'LL GIVE YOU A HAPPY HARVEST FESTIVAL, YOU—"

"Cue the music, lads!" Bonanzo shouted, and suddenly, a wonderful melody flooded through the farm. It was loud enough to cover the furious expletives escaping the pumpkin-headed Malroth. The Builder, who had been securing her own costume in the farmers' quarters, emerged and immediately rushed over to her flailing best friend.

"Hey, what happened? I thought you weren't going to get dressed up."

"I wasn't," he groaned, clawing at the squash. "Perry shoved this stupid pumpkin onto my head!"

The Builder looked him over, and she tried to hide the smile that threatened to lift her lips. "It doesn't look bad on you, Mal. You look rather festive!"

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, why don't you?" he growled. "Can you please help me get this thing off?"

She looked around at the others. Everyone in the farm wore a pumpkin save for Pastor Al and the Furrowfield retriever.

"It's just a pumpkin." The Builder gently took his hands into hers to keep him from destroying the vegetable. At her touch, he slowly began to calm down. "Tonight's the only night we're going to be wearing these things."

"What if it never comes off my head?"

"We'll get it off, don't worry," she assured. "Come on, let's go celebrate with the others. We've been working ourselves to the bone to make Rosie's dreams come true—let's enjoy the festival, costumes and all!"

With that, the blonde tugged him towards the Deitree where everyone was dancing to the lilting melody courtesy of a few fine farmers who doubled as musicians. Malroth soon found himself joining them, doing the silly little dance and even miming tilling the earth just as they did. It still felt weird to have his head in a pumpkin, but at least he wasn't the only one in costume.

As the festival kicked off without a hitch, everyone enjoyed themselves. Even Pastor Al, who had never taken part in anything quite like the Furrowfield Harvest Festival, seemed to be having a lovely time despite not being able to find his own pumpkin mask. The festivities went on well into the night, and just when it seemed like dawn was ready to break, everyone was ready for a well-deserved rest.

...Especially Malroth.

"Hold still, please," the Builder implored, trying to pull the pumpkin off as best she could. Somehow, it'd gotten stuck and truly _wouldn't_ come off. Whatever Perry had done to get this thing on Malroth's head, he'd done a pretty good job making sure it stayed put.

"What if I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life?" Her best friend moaned. "How can I maim monsters like this?"

"You're not gonna be stuck like this for the rest of your life, it's a vegetable," she replied calmly. "And if you stop flailing, I might be able to get it loose, so please hold still."

Malroth did as she instructed and still, the pumpkin remained. She sighed.

"Alright, I might have an idea how to get it off."

"Lay it on me, 'cause I can't think of anything else."

"I could use my mallet—"

"_NO_."

"But—"

"Builder, we need to get the pumpkin off, not give me a concussion."

"It would just be to crack it open and—"

"Hit me with that mallet and you'll crack open more than just this stupid vegetable!"

"Well, I don't know what else to do!" she huffed in frustration. Okay, so _maybe_ using her hammer wasn't the best idea, but they'd already tried everything else! They'd even stuck Malroth's head under the water of the sugar cane fields to get it to slide off, and still, no progress. They couldn't take a stone sword to the thing because they risked hurting Malroth.

After more futile attempts to move the pumpkin, the tough male sighed in defeat.

"Get your mallet," he ordered. "And please, get this stupid fucking thing off of me."

The Builder was about to oblige when she realized they'd been going about this the wrong way. _Maybe all those comments about me looking dopey weren't far off the mark._

"Oh my goddess, I'm a class-A idiot," she murmured. Malroth barely had time to question her when her hand snaked through the eye-holes of the pumpkin. Her fingers curled around the sides and she pulled forward, trying to yank at the openings and possibly take out chunks of the squash. Malroth, who hadn't been expecting her to do that, yelped and lost his balance, tumbling backward. In the process of trying to steady himself, he grasped at the Builder, catching her by surprise and accidentally pulling her down with him.

He landed on his back with a thump, the air leaving his lungs with a whoosh, and when Malroth's pumpkin-covered head connected with the group, the pumpkin cracked in half at the back, saving his head and creating a way for them to finally rid him of the vegetable.

The Builder landed right on top of him, knocking out what little breath he'd returned to his lungs. They both groaned at the impact and the Builder groaned softly.

"Sorry, Mal, I did _not_ think that through."

"'S fine," he wheezed, still fighting to catch his breath. To his surprise, a sliver of cool air sifted through the top of the pumpkin and he cried out in joy. "Wait a second! Builder, check the back of my head!"

After managing to sit up, she did so, letting out a cheer once she saw the pumpkin's sizable wound. "Mal, we did it! We'll have you out of this thing in no time!"

True to her word, she got to work and soon, Malroth was free, pieces of his former orange prison scattered around them. The Builder had clawed and pulled every piece she could grasp. Malroth would need a bath to get the pumpkin-smell out of his hair, but he was finally _free_.

"Thank you, Builder, you really are the best!" He hugged her tightly, causing a light blush to spread across her face. "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it." She patted his back. "You heading to the bathhouse now?"

"Nah. At this point, that's second on my to-do list."

The blonde cocked her head to the side curiously. "What's number one?"

Her best friend's eyes glowed darkly. "Finding Perry."

* * *

After a bountiful harvest and a beautiful banquet under the stars, Perry was stuffed with so much food that he could hardly move. Once he was pumpkin-free and ready to hit the hay, he stretched his arms and began to head for the farmers' quarters when Rosie stopped him.

"I have to give you credit, you followed through with it," she giggled, and he couldn't help but grin back.

"Told ya I would! Did you see 'ow riled up 'e got?" Perry laughed, wiping at his eyes. "Ooh arr, I 'aven't laughed like that in a while."

"So, you think it's funny to shove pumpkins onto people's heads?"

The dangerously low voice that joined them caused Perry to tense, slowly turning around to see Malroth grinning evilly. His red eyes were glowing with mischief and vengeance, and the copper-haired farmer could only gulp in fear. Suddenly all those dinner rolls and plates of grilled greens didn't seem like such a good idea after all.

"M-mister Malroth, sir, I can explain—"

"Sure you can. I'll give you a five second head start."

"Eep!" And with that, Perry took off, Malroth chasing after him with a pumpkin of his own.


	18. To Save Her

**Per StormfernOfUnderClan's request, here's what Malroth may have been thinking during the final battle. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Also I don't know if I ever said this, but I do use dialogue from the game. For the sake of copyright, I DO NOT claim ownership over said dialogue in any way, all rights belong to Square Enix. I'm just using the game dialogue to keep things canon, that's all.**

* * *

_The Builder promised she'd take him down if he turned evil, and now... Now the time has come for her to fulfill her promise._

**To Save Her**

The Builder swung her sword, the sturdy, sharp blade barely making a dent in the monster's scales. She just managed to roll out of the way when the dragon roared, bringing his claws down in two devastating attacks that would have reduced her to bloody ribbons if she had stayed put.

She huffed and panted for breath, chest heaving, blood dripping from her nose. She was pretty sure she had a gash in her side despite the blessed armor currently protecting her from the unholy beast's blows. If... No, _when_ the Builder made it out of this, she knew she'd have bruises all over her face. Black, purple, and yellow would coat her cheeks and nose and forehead; Lulu would probably freak out the next time she saw her. The Builder fully expected a verbal lashing over all these wounds.

The massive dragon before her roared and prepared for another attack, and the Builder readied her sword. Letting out a loud battle cry of her own, she charged forward to meet him head-on.

* * *

_Is this what it's like to be dead?_

Malroth felt weightless. He had no idea where he was or if he was still alive. The last thing he remembered was feeling excruciating pain in his head; he'd then dragged his weary body somewhere, there was something he'd been trying to do, but for some reason, everything felt foggy and nothing made sense.

_What was I doing before this?_

There was water. He could feel it pooling around him, ripples forming each time his body twitched. Did he even have a body? There was something gnawing at him, right on the edge of whatever consciousness he was experiencing, but what could he do without a body? And what on earth could be bothering him when he was currently cradled in oblivion?

Suddenly, he heard a voice pierce the darkness around him. It didn't say anything coherent; it resembled more of a cry than anything. He _knew_ that voice... It was a voice that strengthened the gnawing feeling. Who did it belong to? And why was it so familiar?

Malroth struggled to remember. Images flashed through his mind, images of a tall, twisting tree, a glittering structure amidst an arid climate, and finally, someplace cold yet royal. He knew these places. The names of them were on the tip of his tongue. He'd forgotten their names, how could he have forgotten...?

Little by little, the fog lifted. Malroth had the sense that he was no longer in control of his body—that is, if he did indeed have a body—yet he managed to catch glimpses of someone. A petite young woman with long blonde hair in pigtails and a big book strapped to her back... He knew her from somewhere. Yes, he _knew_ her!

_Builder!_

The glimpses he had of her were far and few in-between. He saw flashes of her striking forward at him, faintly heard her cries of pain as she was knocked backward or struck by something beyond his vision. Who the hell was hurting her?! They'd pay dearly for messing with his best friend, how _dare_ they try to—

For a split second, Malroth was able to look down. He couldn't control his body, but he could see his hands were no longer hands. His skin was green and scaly, very much reptilian and not at all human. Claws adorned the tips of what should have been his fingers, and he watched helplessly as his body moved of its own accord, striking and swatting at the Builder as she struggled to dodge each attack.

_The one trying to hurt her is... me?_

Malroth tried to move one of his limbs but found the action impossible. He couldn't even wiggle his claws! But he had to do _something_; he couldn't just stand by and allow his best friend to get smacked around by whatever monstrous form he'd taken. But what exactly _could_ he do in this state of existence? ...Or lack of existence?

He tried to think, but that feeling of weightlessness kept invading his senses. Any visions of the blonde he'd grown to care deeply for faded in and out, and he fought to remain awake, to remain aware. He had no idea what he'd become, but whatever it was, it had to be terrifying. He could see glimpses of her now and then—she was panting, out of breath, but still pushing herself to parry, to roll, to do whatever it took to deal damage back at him or fall back to save her skin. There were flashes of fire and lightning. She was trying to keep a brave face on, but Malroth knew her better than that—she was terrified of him.

What kind of monster had he become? And how had he ended up like this? Last he could remember... Last he could remember, he...

He...

Wait...

What had he been trying to think about? He would've growled in frustration if he had a voice. If he could just get his messy, jumbled thoughts together... There was someone. It was a she, right? Yes, there was a girl somewhere. She had blonde hair the color of sunshine, and she was important. But why? Why was she important again...?

And then suddenly, a particularly clear view of the Builder came through. He could actually see her to make out the color of her eyes and the shape of her armor. He had suffered sufficient damage from her to actually feel agony coursing through his body. There were deep gashes on his legs and tail, and he was sure he was bleeding elsewhere.

"GRAAAAAAGH!" That voice...! Was that _his_ voice? It sounded like it, but he hadn't spoken. Human-Malroth hadn't moved his lips; he wasn't even sure he _could_ talk. He was still a bystander to the epic battle taking place; whatever was using his voice was trying to manipulate the Builder. He wished he could warn her that whoever this person was, it wasn't him—it was mimicking him.

"_Builder_... You were always such a wimp... How... How did you get so strong!?"

Somehow, he knew her mouth quirked up into a small smirk at that. He remembered constantly remarking about her lacking battle skills. She was so cute whenever she got mad, whenever she stomped her feet and got that adorable little pout on her face. Goddess, his best friend was such a cutie when she wanted to be... And she'd gotten so strong. He was proud of her.

"No... it... it's not you... it's me! There's something... inside me... T-tearing me apart..." Indeed, it felt like something huge and suffocating was threatening to snuff out his grasp on reality, but human-Malroth still wasn't the one in charge of the vocal cords. Was... Was it possible that his memories of the Builder were somehow hurting his monstrous self? "Wh-what have you done?!"

What _had_ she done?

Inky darkness stole human-Malroth's vision and suddenly, the battle and everything around it didn't matter. He was floating again, but this time, he was on the edges of not-Malroth's consciousness, desperately waiting for another chance to get involved in the fight at hand. He weaved in and out of darkness, parts of the fight still flashing before him now and again, and he silently rooted for his best friend, craving to cheer anytime she got a good blow in and wincing whenever one of his body's attacks struck her.

Suddenly, his chance arrived. The Builder had dealt enough damage to not-Malroth that he couldn't suppress human-Malroth any longer.

Malroth pushed as hard as he could, and suddenly, he was _there,_ he was conscious again! He could see the crumbly room around him with distinct clarity, and a little ways away stood the Builder. She was panting and huffing, her right arm cradling her left, bruises marring her pretty face. She looked pretty banged up; definitely worse than he'd ever seen her before. Every few seconds, she'd wince or cringe, and Malroth briefly wondered if she had a few broken bones, but he knew that now was not the time to address her wounds. Now was the time to save her life completely. Bruises and broken bones could heal, but if she died...

No. He wouldn't let that happen.

With a burst of rage, Malroth seized control over half of his body and began to hold himself back. He struggled against the grip of whatever had been making himself attack his best friend, both sets of clawed hands locked with each other as he fought against whatever evil was currently occupying his monstrous form.

"L-Lord Malroth!" What an annoying voice... Who was _that_? "How can this be!? You are the Master of Destruction! This pathetic creature should not be capable of defeating you!"

_That pathetic creature is my best friend_, the human version of him thought. When they'd started this whole adventure together, Malroth had vowed to become her personal protector. He would do anything it took to make sure she was safe; he would crush any enemy that stood between her and her goals.

...And now, that enemy was himself.

"Now, Builder..." _Finally_! Finally, he could speak. "This is your chance..."

Her brow furrowed in confusion at the sound of her best friend's voice and not the terrifying, deep baritone of the evil deity.

"You have to... finish me..."

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to protest, but human Malroth cut her off before she could say anything. He'd save her, even if it cost him his own life. She was worth the sacrifice. He'd made her promise that if he ever went off the rails, that she'd shake him back to his senses. If that meant death, so be it.

Even so... Part of him hurt. He needed to say goodbye, but he didn't exactly want to. If he could have it his way, he'd stay with her and protect her for as long as he could. He'd make her laugh and they'd joke about old times and he'd have his best friend by his side for the rest of his life. Now, however... It wasn't up to him anymore. Hargon had made the decision for him.

If he had control over his own body, he would have shed a tear. He didn't know what awaited him in the afterlife, if there even _was_ an afterlife for an illusion, but he was going to miss the Builder terribly. "I'm happy... we got to say... goodbye..."

"_No_!" she wailed, but Malroth's attention shifted as the evil Malroth began fighting him harder. It was becoming impossible to hold him off any longer. If she didn't finish him off soon, he wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. It was now or never.

"Do it, Builder!" he barked. "Do it... _Now_!"

The last thing he saw was his best friend hanging her head in despair, but he didn't miss the way she gripped her sword that much tighter. She was going to do it; she was going to take him down. She was going to keep her promise.

_It's funny,_ Malroth thought, his consciousness fading quickly. _What was it about love? That you'd give up your life for another's? I guess... There was some... truth to that... after all..._

* * *

Weightlessness.

He was floating again.

_I can't see... anything... Can't feel... anything..._

Images of a battle between a petite blonde and a horrible dragon flashed in his mind. Beyond that, Malroth's senses failed him. Why couldn't he feel anything?

_Oh, that's right... I'm dead._

The darkness was so comforting. It was such a relief to be floating in nothingness. To be alive meant to suffer and worry; here, at least, he had no worries. He did not suffer.

Suddenly, Malroth felt something tugging at his awareness.

"But there was something..." His lips were moving. He had lips again! And if he had lips, then that meant he had a body! The spiky-haired male tested his limbs and found, to his delight and relief, that he could move again. He slowly stood up and was proud of himself for not stumbling over his own two feet.

"Something... important I had to do..." His brain felt so fuzzy. There was such a fog over his mind, but he had to push himself. Maybe if he pushed hard enough, his memory wouldn't fail him. Maybe he'd be able to remember...

"I'm waiting for someone..." he realized aloud. "I've been waiting and waiting... But why? For _who_?"

That blonde girl who had been battling the dragon... She was important for sure, he knew that much. She'd been battling a fierce evil; she was obviously good and the dragon was evil. Aquamarine-colored eyes and a dopey grin flickered through his mind and Malroth stood a little straighter.

Was she the one he was waiting for?

He began to walk around. The world before him was little more than fog, water, and darkness, yet the more he walked, the more the cogs in his brain began to turn. He couldn't get those aquamarine eyes and that stupid smile out of his mind, and—

"I... remember..." A swampy island full of muck and dead foliage; a scorching desert with a golden figure; a snow-covered wasteland with long-dried blood coating its fields... But through all of that... "Yes, I remember!"

It was _her_—she was the common denominator; she was always with him, no matter where they went. She'd stuck with him through each and every adventure, always by his side no matter what. She was his best friend. She always had this huge mallet with her and that book of secrets she wouldn't let him look at, and—

"I'm waiting for the builder!" he cried, his eyes widening with realization. He turned this way and that, trying to find her. "Builder! Where are you!? _Builder_!"

He ignored the pins-and-needles feeling in his legs and began running in search of her. She had to be here! "Builder! Come on, where are you!?"

Despair and loneliness nagged at him. Just when he thought he'd be stuck in the nothingness forever, something changed behind him. Malroth turned around to find a massive, glowing orb of light. It was beautiful, and it seemed to offer a sort of warmth the darkness lacked. He scrambled to get to it, fearing it might disappear if he didn't hurry, and once he was close enough, a feeling of peace enveloped him. This orb of light felt so familiar... It reminded him of the Builder's presence; she always had a calm, soothing aura around her. Malroth had the sudden urge to reach out and touch the light, to see if maybe _this_ was the key to finding his best friend.

_Builder? Is that you?_

Slowly, Malroth lifted his hand up. As he did so, he felt something within the light stir, and just when he was starting to wonder if this hadn't been a good idea after all, he felt another hand slap his in a high-five. A bright light, brighter than anything he'd ever seen, eclipsed the darkness and suddenly, Malroth was flooded with memories. He could remember the Builder, Rosie, Babs, Anessa, Lulu... All of their friends, the good times, the battles, the adventure...

The white light around him lasted a few seconds before the world righted itself. Malroth's hand was still touching the Builder's when the smoke and light cleared, and suddenly, he was back in the world of the living. Twinges of pain surged through him and he fell to his knees, his muscles strangely sore despite the fact that he hadn't felt anything prior to regaining a physical form.

"Hey, Builder... I had a feeling... it was you..." He fought to catch his breath. How long had he been running? Had he even been running? He felt so out of the loop with everything that was going on.

He heard a sniffle and glanced up at the blonde before him, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her bottom lip trembling. A split second later, she fell to her knees as well and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, a sob escaping her as she clung to him. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never seen her cry before. He... wasn't sure what to think about that.

"_You_!" There was that irritating nasal voice again. _Hargon_. "B-but... You should no longer exist!"

Malroth ignored it, the sobbing girl in his arms more of a priority at the moment. More twinges of pain shot through his arms, legs, and head, but other than that, he was alive; his arms encircled the Builder and held her close. It felt amazing to feel her hair tickling his cheeks, to be able to live in the physical realm again; he hoped he never had to go back to that dark world for as long as he lived.

"Thanks..." he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "For keeping our promise... That sword of yours... is pretty sharp, you know..."

"I didn't want to hurt you, I _swear_, but I heard your voice, I know I promised you and I'm _so_ sorry, I—"

"Shh..." He patted her back, then winced as another wave of pain tore through his limbs. She pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide with worry and concern. It was written all over her face that she was dying to ask him if he was okay, _how_ he was okay, but Hargon's voice interrupted them once more.

"Hmm... Perhaps I underestimated how strong a friendship the fools had forged..."

Malroth didn't want to let go of her. He wanted to hold onto her for as long as possible, because yes, they were best friends, but she was the one who had always stuck by his side no matter what. She'd gone through what appeared to be a literal hell to save him. She deserved every bit of comfort he could offer, but with Hargon still around... He gently unwound the Builder's arms from around him and got to his feet, stretching until his joints gave a relieving "pop." He helped the blonde stand as well, not missing her wince when she put a little too much weight onto her left leg. The poor girl was going to need a lot of medicinal herbs once this was all said and done.

"Builder." At her nickname, she turned to him and found that Malroth's gaze was trained on the High Priest. He had unfinished business to settle. "We've got a lot to talk about, but that can wait. I think we need to teach this loony a little lesson first!"

Hargon's face twisted into hatred as he regarded the wounded girl. "Meddling builder! You will regret crossing me!"

The entire foundations of the castle began to shake ominously. The Builder nearly toppled into Malroth, but he caught her and eased her back onto her feet. She whispered a "thanks" and leaned onto his shoulder for support.

"Whoa! What was that!?" Malroth exclaimed. "Something's not right!"

A thick purple mist hung above Hargon's throne. Had it been there when Malroth awoke? He couldn't remember, but his fight or flight instincts were screaming at him; something truly wasn't right, and Hargon's gleeful, "Muah hah hah haah! Yes! YES!" only solidified it.

Malroth and the Builder watched in horror as the purple mist began to swirl together, morphing into a sphere with indigo lightning. Just as Malroth was going to pull the Builder behind him to keep her safe, time seemed to freeze. He couldn't move, could hardly even _blink_—

**_LONG HAVE I AWAITED TO BE REBORN._**

**_I HAVE ONLY ONE PURPOSE..._**

**_TO DESTROY ALL I SEE BEFORE ME!_**

Time resumed and suddenly, the tremors weren't just coming from the castle's foundations—the purple sphere began to expand and grow, the lightning lashing out at the castle's ceiling. Debris rained down on Hargon's throne room and both heroes watched in horror as an aggravated red light exploded from the cloud before giving way to white light. Malroth's grip on the builder tightened as more debris rained down, thicker pieces of citadel wall blocks crashing into the flooring around them. The white light remained for a heartbeat before a massive, horrifying dragon-monster roared into existence, causing more rubble to fall from the castle's upper stories. Once the smoke and haze cleared, Malroth got a good look at this new creature, its glowing red eyes drinking in the environment with clear, malicious intent, and for once in his life, the tough male felt a sliver of fear.

The dragon had four thick, muscular arms and claws that looked like they could do some serious damage—and they _had_ done serious damage to the Builder. The dragon's head was adorned with purple webbing and long horns, and its face looked like the epitome of evil—narrowed red eyes, a dangerous smile with sharp teeth, and an expression that promised death and destruction. A long tail with a literal snake head at the end of it flicked back and forth in anticipation, and the dragon chuckled darkly as its eyes fell onto its previous human vessel.

Hargon cackled wildly. "Behold the Master's true form! I thank you, builder, for drawing your friend forth from His enfeebled form! For freeing His heart from that last, pathetic vestige of humanity!"

Malroth realized the previous battle had been nothing more than a ploy by Hargon. His and the Builder's efforts to save the world and snuff out this despicable entity's existence had been for naught. "Damn it! We've been taken for a ride!"

**_MY CHILD..._**

The frightening voice of the dragon rang out despite the fact that it hadn't moved its mouth. Malroth shuddered.

**_YOU WERE MY WEAKNESS. BUT NOW I AM FREE. MY POWER HAS RETURNED..._**

"No..." The spiky-haired male whispered. The Builder managed to hear him and reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

**_THE FIRST THING I WILL DESTROY... IS YOU!_**

With that, the god of destruction inhaled deeply and let out an eardrum-shattering roar that caused the castle to finally cave in on itself. Malroth's lungs burned as he screamed in terror and rage, his grip on the Builder forcefully loosening as something knocked them apart and knocked him unconscious.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Malroth groaned at the soreness in his body and limbs; whatever had knocked him out had had one hell of a force behind it, that was for sure. He cracked open his eyes and blinked, moving his arms and legs experimentally to make sure everything still worked properly. Once he was able to push himself up onto his feet, he looked around at the broken world before him.

"Ugh... Where is this place?" he murmured. "How did I even get here?"

All he could see was ruin; the castle had been reduced to rubble and glass shards from broken stained glass windows littered some of the remaining pathways. What really grabbed his attention, however, was the blood-colored skies above him.

"The sky's such a strange color..." Even so, the red was kind of pretty in a morbid sort of way. "Have I died and gone to heaven? Or hell, more likely..."

The words had a sense of deja vu to them, like he'd said them before. Suddenly, the events with Hargon and that horrifying destructive deity came rushing back, and Malroth's eyes widened in realization.

"Wait! Where's the Builder!?"

He took off in search of her, careful to hop over whatever holes littered the remains of Hargon's castle. As he began to make his way down a particularly intact pathway, something moved in his peripheral vision. Malroth turned towards the movement and saw something lying amidst the ruins. To his amazement and relief, it wasn't something—it was some_one_! He'd know those pigtails anywhere.

"Builder!" Malroth raced towards her unmoving form and instantly fell to his knees at her side. Her eyes were closed and he couldn't quite tell if she was breathing or not, so he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Builder! Are you okay?"

She didn't respond. Malroth gently shook her. "Hey, Builder! Get up, will you? Come on, at least say something!"

Still, she would not move. His gaze swept over her quickly, trying to assess the damage she'd suffered from both the fight with his alter ego and the huge explosion. By chance, Malroth's eyes fell on her face and he leaned in closer. "What's this? Blood...?"

He stared at her, his brain going completely blank. He had no idea what to think of this; it couldn't be real. She couldn't be...

He forced a chuckle. She was messing with him. This was just some kind of prank, nothing serious... right?

"Nice one, Builder! You had me going for a second there, but you can drop the act now."

The Builder's body remained chillingly still. Malroth stared at her back, once more trying to see if she was even breathing. When he couldn't quite see whether or not she was, dread settled into the pit of his stomach. What was he to do if she...? How could he go on if his best friend...?

"...Builder?"

_Please... yell at me, punch me, anything.. just wake up..._

Finally, as if the goddess had heard his prayers, the Builder winced before opening her eyes. She whimpered softly and Malroth quickly removed his hand from her shoulder, thinking he'd accidentally hurt her.

"Thank goodness! You're alive!" He let out a relieved sigh. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing her. "You really had me worried there."

Her eyes squeezed shut in pain as she tried to readjust herself, another tiny whimper escaping her when she moved too quickly. Malroth wasn't sure what kind of injuries she had, but they had to be substantial; he'd never seen her look so weak before.

"Mal...roth..."

The man in question leaned in closer. "I'm here. What can I do?"

"I need..." She winced. "I need you... to make me... a medicinal herb."

Malroth blanched. "What? Don't be silly! I can't make a thing—you know that! You've watched me try enough times..."

Honestly, how many of his attempts had literally blown up in his face? He wasn't usually the type to feel embarrassed or stupid, yet anytime he stood in front of a workbench and tried to make the simplest items, he was reminded of how he failed at being a builder. He was the one who smashed things up and smashed whoever got in her way, but making things? Nah; that was _her_ forte. Surely she had some leftover medicinal herbs somewhere in that backpack of hers?

The Builder's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Maybe the Master... of Destruction can't make anything, but... Maybe you can."

She hissed and squeezed her eyes shut, and Malroth's heart clenched painfully at the sight of her in so much agony.

"I see where you're coming from! Alright, I'll give it a shot," he vowed. He had to at least try, otherwise... No, there would be no "otherwise"; he'd save her no matter what it took!

Malroth turned away from her and drank in his surroundings. _Okay—building stuff, building stuff... Agh, how do I do this?_

Where should he start first? How did _she_ usually begin the building process? He tried to remember all the times he'd watched her craft medicinal herbs. The key ingredient to making one was a medicinal leaf, right? Hargon's ruined castle had to have something reminiscent of that. In fact... As Malroth turned around to begin his search for such an item, a particularly green area caught his attention. Roses and vines were growing there, and amidst the small patches of grass were a series of shrubs that looked suspiciously like the ones the Builder harvest medicinal leaves from.

He took off towards what remained of Hargon's courtyard and began searching the shrubs, trying to see if any of them had the telltale leaf he desperately needed. It wasn't until he'd exhausted nearly every one of them that he realized one final bush remained; upon inspection, he eased a medicinal leaf off its stem and admired it.

_This is one of those medicinal leaves, right?_ he thought. _Now what would the Builder do? She'd take it to a table or something..._

Malroth again surveyed his surroundings and, to his delight, there was a worn workbench on a nearby hill.

_Ah, that'll do nicely! Let's give this a go!_

He quickly set the leaf down on the workbench's surface. "Okay... I've watched her do this more times than I care to remember. She always started off like this..."

Malroth began trying to make a medicinal herb with the rusty tools stored in the table's secret compartment. The more he tried to make it, the worse things began to go. Attempt after attempt found him failing horribly, each literally falling apart before his eyes.

"Damn it! Why can't I do this?" He folded his arms across his chest in frustration. Why couldn't he make things? Okay, so it made sense that when he was the vessel for the god of destruction, he'd be useless when it came to building, but now? There was no excuse! It was just a stupid medicinal herb, it didn't take a genius to make one, so why couldn't _he_ do it and be done with it? Honestly, with how unlucky he'd been in the building department, maybe giving up completely wasn't a bad idea.

Then again, if he gave up now, the Builder might not make it, and he refused to let that happen. "I can't give up! I have to give it another shot!"

Readying himself, Malroth grabbed the leaf and tried again.

No dice.

Again.

Nope.

_Again_.

It just wasn't happening.

He hung his head sadly. "This is hopeless... I'm never going to do it..."

How the hell did the Builder make this look so easy?! He wondered if she'd laugh at him for failing so much, then quickly dismissed the thought—she was too nice to laugh at anyone when they were struggling. Truth be told, she was the first genuinely nice person he'd ever met... Malroth couldn't remember anything of his past before washing up on the Isle of Awakening, nor was he sure he even _had_ a past, what with him being part of Hargon's illusion and all. But he knew without a doubt that she was genuinely good—she was so sweet and bubbly, always friendly to any and all, monster or human, and while he'd never understood how she could be such an open book, he'd always admired how kind she was. The Builder was the definition of a good person. If she ended up passing away, he knew for sure his world would become a little darker without her light.

Determination lit his veins. No amount of failure would ever stand in the way of him saving her life. If anyone deserved to live, it was her!

_I have to keep trying! One more go!_

The more he tried, the more he failed. Malroth growled as he worked harder, desperate to just make the stupid herb so he could get back to his best friend's side and help her in any way he could.

After his fifth attempt, Malroth covered his face with his hands and gritted his teeth together angrily. At this rate, he'd never make it and the Builder would perish. What was the use of returning to the Isle without her? Yes, the others were worth saving and he'd protect them all until his last breath, but without her... If it hadn't been for her, Malroth wouldn't have gotten to meet any of their friends. Whenever people mentioned Malroth, they had to mention the Builder, too. He couldn't imagine living a life without her by his side.

In his mind's eye, he could see that dopey smile of hers. Even when her creations came out looking a little wonky, she never looked at poor results as a reason to quit and she was never down on herself. She kept trying until she got it right, and although yes, she did get frustrated sometimes, she never, ever gave up. Any challenges that came her way were met with determination and excitement; she never let failure keep her from getting better. She always seemed to have fun with whatever she was making.

And that's when Malroth realized he'd been going about this the wrong way.

He chuckled to himself. "What am I doing? The Builder never built stuff like this. She always had a great big smile on her face as she worked... And I always enjoyed watching her do it, too..."

How many times had he caught her grinning like an idiot when she finally figured out how to improve a recipe? And how many times had they both shared knowing smiles when she figured out what to build next? He always knew whenever she got that determined twinkle in her eye, he'd have to stick close to her—she often got so into her projects that she'd forget to eat or sleep, and he couldn't count how many times he'd had to literally put her over his shoulder and carry her off to grab dinner or to make her get some rest. No matter what, the Builder always enjoyed the process of putting something together. Maybe he should try to enjoy it, too.

His hands moved to grasp the medicinal leaf again, albeit gentler this time as he worked. _Building is supposed to be fun! No, building IS fun!_

Malroth took his time and realized that it didn't have to be perfect. The Builder's work always looked perfect once it was done, but that was because she never put pressure on herself to _be_ perfect—she simply had fun with it. Suddenly, it all made sense, and before he knew it, right on the table, Malroth had a medicinal herb ready to go.

_I, I did it... I did it?_ He stared at the herb, admiring it. He punched the air triumphantly. "I DID IT! Ha ha!"

Without missing a beat, he hurried back to the Builder's side. "Hey! I made the medicinal herb you wanted! Here!"

She still appeared to be resting, so he eased the herb into her mouth. As soon as it made contact with her tongue, a white light engulfed her body for a few seconds, indicating it had healed her. Malroth watched and held his breath, waiting for her to jump back to her feet, good as new, just like all those other times she'd suffered hefty wounds in battle.

Yet... She remained deathly still. He frowned and tapped her shoulder. When she still didn't move, he tried again, dread filling his stomach once more at the prospect that he was too late. He'd spent all that time struggling to make her medicine... Maybe he'd spent _too_ long. Maybe she...

No... She couldn't be.

To his relief, the Builder opened her eyes and tested her limbs, heaving a sigh of relief when she realized she could move them again without issue. Her body was still sore from the blast of evil-Malroth's roar, but other than that, she seemed to be alright. Malroth wiped the sweat from his brow as she stood up and stretched.

"You're okay," he exclaimed with a choked-up chuckle, happy to see her up and moving again. "It's good to have you back! How are you feeling?"

...He didn't expect her to put her hands on her hips and glare at him. "Are you _kidding_ me?!"

"Whoa there! Don't get angry at me! What did _I_ do?"

"You know good and well what you did!" She stomped her foot angrily. He knew it was supposed to intimidate him, but honestly, she was too adorable to be even a little intimidating. "You told me you never wanted to see me again and then you went and got yourself kidnapped! Do you know how worried I was about you?! Do you have ANY idea how broken up I was over the fact that I could've lost my best friend?!"

He couldn't help it. She was just so cute. He laughed and reached out to pull her into a hug, which she allowed, albeit begrudgingly. "Well, when you put it like that... Sorry, Builder. It won't happen again, I promise!"

Her glare morphed into more of a pout, her lips pursed as she refused to look at him. Malroth placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could meet her gaze. "Still, don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit? Go on—turn that frown upside down!"

She tried to keep the pout in place, but he could tell a smile was tugging at her mouth. "No. I'm mad at you."

"Come on, Builder, pleeease? For me?"

He pursed his lips and tried to give her puppy eyes, which probably looked ridiculous, but he didn't care about looking ridiculous in front of her. Finally, she sighed and the side of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

"There, happy?"

He laughed. "That's more like it! Smiling like an idiot suits you much better!"

She smacked his chest playfully and he hugged her again. This time, she wound her arms around his muscular frame and squeezed, happy to have her best friend back.

When they pulled apart, Malroth grew somewhat serious. "I'm sorry about what I said back in Moonbrooke. I didn't mean any of it. I was just lashing out."

The blonde nodded, her smile fading. Suddenly, she looked just as meek and quiet as when he'd first met her, her hands wringing together nervously. "I'm sorry, too. I should've known Warwick was the traitor. I never should have let him convince me to use Ra's mirror on you or throw you in that jail cell... Can you ever forgive me?"

The spiky-haired male grinned. "Nothing to forgive, Builder. We're best friends for life, you know that. As far as I'm concerned, all of that stuff is water under the bridge."

She was about to reply when a huge tremor shook the remains of Hargon's castle. As they fought to keep their footing, Malroth had the sudden sense that there was something evil and very-much monster nearby. When the world stopped shaking, his instincts led him to look towards where he'd found the medicinal shrub.

"Builder, over there." He pointed towards a group of flashing lights, and when she noticed them, too, her expression grew sober. "I don't like the look of it one bit."

"Yikes." She whistled. "I don't like the look of that, either."

"I'll bet anything it's Hargon and his new best buddy getting up to no good!" He pushed up his sleeves, his face twisting into a glare. "We need to go over there and put a stop to whatever it is they're doing right now!"

"I agree. But before that..." The Builder shrugged off her backpack and rifled through it. Malroth was about to ask her what she was looking for when she pulled out a very familiar oaken club.

His eyes grew wide. "Hey, isn't that my...?"

"You must've dropped it somehow." She held it out to him and he happily accepted it. "I made that specially for you, dummy. Be more careful, okay?"

He laughed and gave it a few test swings. Even after all this time, it still held up perfectly. "I can't believe you lugged it all the way here!"

"How could I not? You've always loved that thing, plus it was the first gift I ever gave you. Of course I'd bring it back to you."

He ran his fingers over its bumps, admiring its rough texture. "Still... it means a lot to me that you did. Thanks, Builder."

"You're welcome!"

Malroth allowed his weapon to lean against his shoulder as he eyed the lights again. "Alright then, shall we pay those two a visit?"

He'd already turned to head in the direction of where Hargon and that horrible dragon were probably wreaking havoc when she spoke up again. "Um... Th-there's one other thing..."

"Hm?" He turned to find her looking shy, her cheeks pink with blush. He was about to ask her if she was feeling alright, if maybe she needed him to make another medicinal herb, but all thoughts went right out the window when she grabbed his shoulder, leaned in, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Shocked, Malroth lifted a hand to where she'd kissed him, his fingers ghosting over the spot. "What was that for...?"

"For saving my life. Thank you, Malroth." The shy smile that lit up her face made him feel like he'd swallowed a bunch of butterflies. His heart seemed to skip a beat at the thought that she'd just _kissed him on the cheek_. No one had ever done that before... What could it mean?

"Now," her voice broke him out of his thoughts once more, though this time, she wasn't the least bit meek or shy. She pulled her backpack on and nodded towards the flickering lights. "You ready to go kick some butt?"

He grinned. "Always. Let's go!"


	19. Prince of Destruction (preview)

**As promised, here is the first chapter (also the sample) from the new Builderoth story I'm working on! I realize this first chapter is short; nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoy it and do let me know what you think! It's not going to be a step-by-step novelization of the game's events, but I've decided to use certain scenes and lines from the game to explore how things could have gone if the builder didn't have Malroth protecting her the whole way through. Would she really have made it on her own? I guess we'll see ;)**

**Thank you for the new favorites and follows! I hope all of you are staying healthy and safe.**

* * *

_AU: Prince Malroth has never had an issue keeping people in line. That is, not until a pesky blonde begins showing up on his radar. Rumor has it she's the last builder alive, and she's definitely been building, which is a cardinal sin according to Hargon. When she begins causing trouble for his men, will Malroth lay her low? Or will he be forced to rethink his stance on building?_

**The Builder and the Prince of Destruction**

_Ugh... What hit me?_

The first thing that registered to her was a gentle, salty breeze caressing her face. Something rough was under her cheek, and after cracking open an eye, she confirmed that yes—she _was_, in fact, on a beach. Specifically, she was lying on what was once part of a wooden deck—fragments of what appeared to be a ship.

As the blonde sat up, careful not to push herself too hard, she looked around to see what she could see. Memories of what she'd been doing prior to ending up on this island slowly began to return to her. Captain Whitebones, running errands for the monsters, the sudden storm that ended up damaging his ship beyond repair... Somehow she'd survived the shipwreck, but the captain's ship hadn't been so lucky.

Speaking of which... Where _was_ the skeletal captain?

The young woman stood and stretched, happy to find that she'd suffered no injuries. As she walked around the beach, trying to get her bearings and figure out what to do next, she spotted a little patch of sand and sediment that looked like it'd had years to gather inside a crevice within the rocky outcrop. She quickly walked over to it and, after inspecting it, began to try digging into it. As she did so, she began to see through to the other side, revealing another sliver of beach. Once she'd created a big-enough opening, she squeezed through and began to look around.

_There's nothing here_, she lamented, heaving a sigh at how empty the island appeared. _The whole place is deserted. I must be the only one who survived the wreck._

As her gaze lifted to the heavens, she frowned, tilting her head to the side curiously. _The sky's such a strange color... Have I died and gone to heaven? Or hell, more likely..._

Suddenly, a noise caught her attention. The blonde followed the sound and found a few bodies lying chillingly still in the shallows of the waves. Among the corpses was a pink-haired woman who was coughing and spluttering, struggling to sit up. The blonde immediately rushed to her side, eager to help her.

"Hey! Are you okay?!"

"Where... am I?" the pinkette managed, clutching her chest as she coughed a few more times. "How did I get here?"

"You must've been on Captain Whitebones' ship," the blonde explained, gently patting her back. "We hit a bad storm that smashed his ship and now we're marooned on this island."

Once the pinkette seemed to gain her bearings, she turned to the blonde with a queer expression. "Just a moment... Do I know you?"

"Me?" The blonde blinked. "I mean, we were on his ship together, so... Maybe?"

"Yes! I remember! You're that _builder_!" The pinkette pointed at her accusingly, spitting the word 'builder' like it was a curse word. "The one who ran around grinning while those horrid monsters barked orders at you! I know you were in cahoots with them, so that means this is all _your_ fault!"

"What? But I—"

"I won't hear of it! You're guilty!"

"Now wait a second, I—"

"_Well_?" The pink-haired girl placed her hands on her hips expectantly, a scowl on her delicate features. "What are you going to do about it?!"

The blonde wasn't sure what to make of this girl, but she figured the stress of being kidnapped, thrown into a cell, and then shipwrecked was enough to make anyone agitated (huge understatement) and want to point fingers. Plus, she was a builder; she was used to people being bossy and doling out demands.

Scratching her head, the blonde looked around. "Considering we might be here for a while... I can make the things we need to survive while we wait for a rescue party."

If _there will even _be _a rescue party_, she thought grimly.

The pinkette gave her a snooty once-over before nodding. "Oh, well... alright. Even a rank amateur like yourself should be able to use that worn-out workbench outside to make the most basic essentials."

After an awkward beat, the pinkette spoke up again. "I'm Lulu, by the way. Now, what will we need to hold out until help arrives? Let me see..."

The blonde listened intently as Lulu began to list the things they'd need to increase their chances of survival. Although Lulu's condescending, bossy tone would be off-putting to most, the builder didn't mind at all. It felt good to have something to do again, to have a few tasks to complete. It was better than sitting around doing nothing. Besides, she was a builder—having people bark demands at her was part of the job.

"You can consider these little tasks as training exercises, if you like," Lulu continued, tapping her chin thoughtfully. After a moment, a smug smile lit up her face. "Then, when you become a fully fledged builder, you'll have me to thank for it!"

After creating a makeshift house for them to sleep in, making straw beds, and cooking a few scallywinkles until they were good and seared, evening fell and the two young women found themselves sitting close to the bonfire for warmth. The sound of the waves gently breaking against the shores was soothing, but the sea breeze was becoming a little too chilly for their liking.

"Oh, how rude of me!" Lulu exclaimed suddenly, finishing her third scallywinkle. "I just realized I never asked your name."

"You can call me 'builder,'" the blonde replied with a grin. "All my friends do."

"Builder, huh? Alright. It's nice to meet you, Builder."

"Nice to meet you, too!"

The pinkette grinned as well. "I must say, it's a real relief to have a builder around. And judging by the quality of your work, one would never imagine you were still only learning the ropes."

A genuine compliment from Lulu? The builder had a feeling that _that_ was rare. "Gee, thanks, Lulu!"

Lulu lifted her gaze to the stars above. "I know we're stranded here, but in a weird way, I'm actually looking forward to it!" The moment would have been sweet if not for the determined twinkle that entered the pinkette's eyes. "I shall give you even more work to do, so that you might blossom as a builder!"

The builder shook her head in amusement. She should've known there'd be a catch to the compliment. "Gee, thanks, Lulu."

* * *

"You're doing excellent, my Lord."

High Priest Hargon's low cackle was practically in Malroth's ear as his boot came down onto his opponent's head. When the monster screeched, "I yield, I _yield_!" Malroth increased his weight, earning a pained cry from the creature and another delighted cackle from his mentor.

"You are part of my troops," he spoke, lifting his chin while continuing to make eye contact with the monster. "We show no mercy. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, my Lord, p-please—"

"We do not beg for mercy, no matter what. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord!"

Malroth's ear twitched as he heard Hargon take his leave, the High Priest's attention drawn to a monster who had requested his presence. Once he was gone, Malroth lifted his boot, releasing his opponent, and the monster let out a relieved sigh, relaxing flat against the dirt of the training arena. The prince made no move to help his opponent up, instead watching as the scrawny monster pushed itself up and scurried out of the arena. It didn't look back, which was just as well—if it had looked behind itself, it would not have seen pity, remorse, or any semblance of regret. Instead, it would have seen the prince looking rather weary, like he hadn't the least bit interest in sparring with one of his men.

To the Children of Hargon, going toe-to-toe with Malroth was one of the highest honors one could achieve; to Malroth, however, it was _boring_. No one could match his strength, not even the high-ranking monsters that had earned their positions through exceptional displays of brutality. He'd learned everything he could, he'd become almost as strong as his father, if not stronger since the seal had been placed on him all those years ago. Not a single monster in his ranks could defeat him in a sparring match, not even if it was him against multiple men. He was simply too strong. He could decimate an entire army without breaking a sweat.

Nothing was exciting anymore. When you were already the strongest one alive, when you had every bit of power and wealth at your fingertips, what could you do with your time? Luxury was nice, but it got old after a while.

After leaving the arena, Malroth began to head back up to his personal quarters. As he passed a few servants, he happened to overhear parts of their conversation.

"Did you hear? That bonehead's ship finally went under."

"Really? I thought he claimed he was good at piloting a ship."

"Nah, it was only a matter of time before it got destroyed, Lord Malroth be praised."

"Did you hear he caught a live builder?"

Now _that_ piqued the prince's interest. "Builder" wasn't a word that had been tossed around in his palace for years, not since his late father had scoured the world, wreaking havoc and exterminating all builders he could find. His steps slowed to a halt as he strained his ears, trying to listen to the conversation as it drifted farther away.

"A live one? I thought they were all wiped out."

"Apparently, there was one back in Cantlin. She went down with the ship."

"So builders are still considered wiped out."

"Yep."

"What a pity... I'm sure the prince would have enjoyed taking her down himself."

As both monsters fell out of earshot, Malroth mulled over what he'd heard. So, one of his captains had managed to nab a builder? But the ship had gone down, and the builder had been lost to the waves... What a pity indeed. He'd almost gotten his hopes up that finally, after being bored for so long, he'd have a worthy adversary.

Little did he know he'd definitely be busy within the coming months. This would not be the last time he'd hear of this mysterious builder.


	20. Not Alone

**I'm still here! Just been busy lately. I hope you're all doing well and staying safe out there.**

**This idea came from playing through Moonbrooke again. I got to thinking, with how pretty much everyone on Moonbrooke starts to give Malroth the suspicious side-eye, how would he feel about being treated like some wild beast? I can't imagine it would make him feel great, especially not after the events of Moonahan. And I can't imagine the others would be subtle about hiding their suspicion, disgust, and fear.**

**Prepare yourselves for a sliver of angst, but not too much, because these oneshots are all about builderoth, after all :D**

**A huge thank you to all my recent faves/followers! And thank you for the reviews, it's a huge honor to know you guys like this series of oneshots. When I initially started writing these, I actually almost scrapped the idea and figured maybe someone else would write a good builderoth thing, that maybe I couldn't quite do Malroth and the builder the justice they deserved, so to see that you guys are really enjoying my works makes me ridiculously happy T_T**

* * *

_Amidst a sea of unfriendly faces, sometimes all it takes is the kind words of one good friend to make everything better._

**Not Alone**

The negative temperatures of Moonbrooke were not natural.

Even Malroth, whose body temperature ran a little higher than that of a normal man's, shivered when it snowed. Yet more often than not, the frigidness that gave him goosebumps wasn't just from the snow and biting winds. The people of Moonbrooke were cold; ice radiated from them, both consciously and in their body language. They were a cold, no-nonsense people, unafraid to exclude those they deemed unworthy or suspicious.

Malroth was, unfortunately, one of those people deemed "unworthy or suspicious."

Since arriving on the frozen island, things hadn't exactly been going horribly. The builder seemed right as rain, albeit slightly disturbed by the fact that so many people had already died. She wasn't used to death; she was used to saving people and _keeping_ them safe, so when that messenger from Moonahan dropped to the ground dead from a well-aimed explosion thanks to one of Hargon's Heroes, Malroth watched her usual dopey smile fall from her face, a solemn frown replacing it. It had taken a day or so, but eventually, that dumb grin was back on her face as she rushed around, working to complete tasks and requests. Malroth often wondered about her. Did she truly get over the fact that someone had died? Or had she swept it under the rug, instead choosing to deal with it at a later date? Was she bottling her emotions for the sake of maintaining functionality?

He wondered about her because to a certain degree, the builder was too naive for her own good. Malroth understood the realities of war far better than she did, at least, that's what he'd thought until he'd gotten those soldiers killed at Moonahan. Human death was so much different than that of monsters dying. At least when a monster took its last breath, it squawked, screeched, or howled, and then poof! The lifeless body was gone in an purple puff of smoke, no mess left behind. No one cried over monsters... Save for Pastor Al, of course, and even Goldirox. The monsters who fought to protect righteousness were the ones that people mourned over, and rightfully so. Even when Pastor Al had taken his final breath, everyone had been upset, but they'd never freaked out like Warwick had. That's when Malroth got his first taste of what it meant to lose a human ally.

Human deaths were a much more solemn affair. A burial was in order, then a funeral, and finally, mourning. Acceptance. Moving on. The notion of funerals was foreign to him, and while he respected these traditions when they were carried out (the builder hadn't exactly been happy while crafting coffins and headstones), they were strange. The entire concept of death was something he could never quite wrap his head around, although it was easier to process than that whole "love" business he'd encountered on Khrumbul-Dun. Warwick's meltdown at the church had been proof enough that death was not an easy thing to shrug off and move on from; it was a serious, heartbreaking event. It was permanent (duh), and if Warwick was correct, then death was the end of everything, consciousness and memories included. Malroth didn't know what the afterlife held, but he liked to think there was _something_ after death. One look at the beautiful world around them, the shining faces of his friends, the gentle nature of flowers and animals, the sun's ascent and descent, casting glorious colors across the sky as it did so... All of that beauty had to come from somewhere, and while he didn't exactly consider himself religious, he liked to believe _something_ was responsible for all the wonderful things that surrounded them.

As each day passed, however... Malroth found himself more and more unsure of _what_ to believe, if anything.

There was something wrong with this island, there _had_ to be, because ever since his and the builder's arrival, there were entire chunks missing from his memory where there should be perfect clarity. Malroth couldn't even remember running off towards Moonahan: one moment he'd been standing with the builder, Warwick, and Anessa, a mortally wounded soldier from the ruined town pleading for help, shock and fury swirling in his gut, and in the blink of an eye, he was standing close to some church, three soldiers lying dead on the ground, Anessa yelling at him while the builder remained quiet and bitter tears ran down Warwick's face. His memory was blank. He couldn't remember lifting a sword or making his way anywhere. He didn't even remember asking where Moonahan was.

On Furrowfield, everything had been fine, and yeah, sometimes the heat of Khrumbul-Dun got to his brain, but Malroth managed to remember _everything_ that was going on without issue, no alarming gaps within his memory. Even on the Isle of Awakening, where he'd occasionally suffered from wicked headaches and a strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he had all his ducks in a row.

What was it about this place that had him all messed up? Even worse was the fact that nearly every soldier within Moonbrooke now eyed him with a mix of fear and disgust. No one wanted to train with him, and no one could bring themselves to meet his eyes. The only one who spoke to him like a normal person was the builder, and even then, it was like a rift was forming between them. He didn't know why or how, but it was happening, and he wasn't sure what to make of it, but he knew he didn't like it. He'd always been close with her—they were best friends, for goddess' sake—and so to feel her drifting away _hurt_. Even more so when there wasn't a friendly face around to laugh or spar with. He felt.. alone.

He knew he'd screwed up when he'd gotten all those soldiers killed at Moonahan, and he knew he'd said some messed up stuff afterwards that didn't make sense—why would he ever call a church 'profane'? He had nothing against religion, and why would he ever call fallen soldiers _weak_? Normally confident and not sweating the small stuff, Malroth was beginning to question himself. Did he have a few screws loose? Was he losing his mind, slowly but surely? He hoped the builder had meant it when she'd promised him that she'd set him back on track if he ever went off the rails, because if he ever _did_ lose it, someone would need to give him a proper shaking, and he'd prefer her to do it over anyone else.

Malroth tried not to think too much on the "what if"s, instead trying to focus on the tasks at hand. They had baddies to bash. Simple enough; bashing was his area of expertise. Every day was a fresh, blank slate to prove he could protect the people and help the builder get her plans underway without interruption. That was how Malroth was keeping himself together. He reasoned that yes, he'd made a very big mistake, and continued to feel pangs of guilt here and there (especially when soldiers or villagers would take one look at him and run the other way, sometimes literally, or they'd purposely avoid him, getting up to leave if he entered the same room as them), but he continued to fight to save the others. He pushed himself to keep patrolling and keep protecting the ones who, perhaps, couldn't protect themselves, especially the builder.

The rift between them was something he was still trying to figure out. They hadn't fought or argued, and during the fleeting moments he _did_ get a chance to see her, she always had a smile for him, never once side-eyeing him like Anessa or Gerome. As far as he was concerned, they were fine; it's just that as the war got more and more difficult and the enemies got stronger, he didn't get to see much of her. On the few occasions he did see her, it was either seeing her dozing over her workbench or tiredly shoving food into her mouth. That left little time for conversation or even a simple, "hey, how are you holding up?"

Left to his own devices more often than not, Malroth had a lot of time to think. He couldn't remember much of his past, if he even had one to remember. He couldn't remember if he'd ever experienced love, if he'd ever cried or gotten so angry that he couldn't think straight. He didn't know if he had parents or siblings, or if he was an orphan. The only experiences he could talk about were the ones he'd had after waking up on the sandy beaches of the Isle of Awakening, the builder meeting him and then both of them working to meet Lulu's demands. He knew that despite having friends, lots of people were afraid of his strength, and rightfully so. Even he, proud and cocky as he could be, recognized his immense power and understood why some trembled at the sight of him enraged. He was a force to be reckoned with, and goddess help anyone who pissed him off or messed with his friends.

He couldn't remember having had much experiences prior to the Isle of Awakening, but he'd learned a lot during his time spent adventuring with the builder. Yet with all the experiences he had had, both good and bad... Malroth had never experienced people looking at him like he was a freak. Not like the Moonbrookians were treating him.

Normally, he couldn't care less about what other people thought of him, but after fighting so hard to protect all the people within the ruined walls of Moonbrooke Castle, to see so many soldiers avoid him and give him the cold shoulder... He began missing the Isle of Awakening. The Furrowfielders and Khrumbul-Dunnians never once treated him like this no matter if they found his strength frightening or not. They _accepted_ him. They treated him like family, and in fact, they were the closest thing to a family he could ever remember having.

Malroth would never admit it aloud, but he missed them. He missed sparring with Digby and Dougie, watching Perry, Rosie, and Bonanzo work happily in the fields, and at nights, he missed seeing Babs dance her heart out and give an earful to the miners when they started acting like idiots. He missed his family.

Moonbrooke was a war zone. It was fun and kept him on his toes, but what _wasn't_ fun was being treated like a dangerous animal.

* * *

One evening, the builder was up late in her own personal room away from the soldiers' barracks where a multitude of snores could be heard through the door. Zara and a few other members of the king's guard were up patrolling, per usual. Malroth had offered to help them take out any monsters that dared to try and pull a sneak attack, to which he was assured (without anyone meeting his eyes) that they had it under control.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't feel like going to bed; in fact, lately he'd been dreading sleep. Every time he managed to get a few hours of rest, strange dreams and horrible nightmares plagued him. The only time he'd ever gotten a decent sleep was in Skelkatraz, back when he and the builder had been thrown into the Hole. The last thing he needed was to wake up kicking and screaming, and then have to endure whispers about how he was not only a beast on the battlefield, but also losing his mind. That would be the icing on the already bitter, already suspicious cake.

Malroth's feet wound up bringing him to the builder's quarters. He hesitated, straining his ears to listen for any sounds coming from within the small room—was she asleep? If so, he'd let her be; the poor girl hardly got any sleep herself what with the constant monster attacks—and was surprised when footsteps approached the door. When it opened, he was met with the sight of a very tired-looking builder, yet despite her exhaustion, she smiled.

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Not much," he replied. He wasn't sure what he was doing at her door or why, of all places, he'd wound up here, but it was nice to be met with a smile instead of hostility or fear. "You workin' on something?"

"Ah..." She scratched the back of her neck. "I mean, I should be, but I needed a break. Do you want to come in?"

"Sure."

The blonde stepped aside and Malroth entered the room, a warmth uncharacteristic of Moonbrooke greeting him. There was a strong fire going in the fireplace she'd built for herself, and the crisp scent of paper and books teased his nose. He wasn't surprised at the array of crumpled-up papers and the mess of materials strewn about; she was a damn good builder, but not exactly the best at keeping her own stuff organized. It reminded him of the various times he'd sat back and watched her work on blueprints and sketches during their adventures on all the other islands, back when he didn't feel like he was constantly walking on eggshells.

While on Furrowfield and Khrumbul-Dun, they'd actually been able to hang out. The builder certainly did have her hands full, yet she could always make time to step away from her work to share a meal with him or go on a walk. Nowadays she was so busy crafting things and drawing up new plans, or fighting alongside him on the battlefield that he hardly got a chance to even say hello. If she wasn't trying to come up with new inventions, she was either quickly stuffing a jacket potato into her mouth or catching up on sleep. He understood that they were in a war zone—her help was greatly needed by the others, and he wasn't a needy, clingy person, so he didn't mind not getting to see her. He let her do her thing and hung back, fighting off baddies when he needed to and making sure the townsfolk worked hard when building up the castle's gates.

That was before he realized a rift was forming between them. He still wasn't a needy, clingy person, but he _did_ enjoy being around her. She, at least, never treated him like a freak. She was the only ally he had, and if he lost her, too, then... Well... It wasn't a thought he liked to consider.

He sat down on her bed, narrowly avoiding sitting on a stack of blueprints requested by the townsfolk.

"Sorry about the mess," came her voice, sheepishness clear in her tone as she gently eased the door closed. "Sometimes when the monsters come, I kind of have to up and leave everything. I don't really have time to keep things neat."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Malroth assured her. "I don't care if your room is messy or not. You know that."

"Yeah, I know, I just... Sorry." She breathed out a laugh. "I haven't gotten much sleep, so I'm a little all over the place. What brings you here?"

He shrugged. "Not much else for me to do. The others don't want me to help with patrol."

"Why not? I'd think Zara and the others would jump at the chance for you to help them."

Malroth would've thought the same thing. Anytime Britney took the night watch on Furrowfield and the Isle of Awakening, she was incredibly grateful when he started staying up alongside her to keep everyone safe. His brute strength was an advantage; he was actually able to keep his friends safe. On Moonbrooke, however, people took one look at him and ran the other way. They didn't trust him. They acted like he was a ticking time-bomb, ready to go off at the slightest thing. Even the way they would politely decline his help was with shaky voices and nervous, shifting eyes, eyes that could barely stand to meet his. Malroth hated how monstrous they made him feel. He was the kind of man who never left his friends in a pinch and helped the builder restore order to the land.

At least, that's how he used to view himself. The people of Moonbrooke didn't know him as well as, say, Dougie and Digby, or even Perry, for crying out loud, but that didn't matter; they didn't seem to even want to give him a chance. They didn't view him as a great hero who'd help keep them all safe (at least, not anymore); they viewed him as a loose cannon that was going to get them all killed if they didn't keep him on a proper leash.

It never used to bother him. Things had been going great: they'd attained victory after victory, and finally, they'd taken back the entire castle. Anessa expressed her concerns over how brash he could be, but he'd brushed it all off. And then, three soldiers died under his watch in Moonahan, and how had he responded? That they were foolish? _Worthless_? That they should have fought harder, that if they chose to let themselves get killed, that was on them? How could he ever say such cruel things? That wasn't him... Sure, regular people were weaker than him, but he would _never_ say such a thing about someone who had fought alongside him on the battlefield and met their end. Where had all that come from? He could understand why Anessa screamed at him afterwards, calling him a monster... And because the population of the castle was still technically small despite its slow-growing numbers, rumors about his mistake traveled quickly. A few soldiers who had been begging to become his squire and train under him suddenly gave him the cold shoulder, not looking him in the eye, and retracting their statements if he asked them whether or not they still wanted him to teach them a few tricks to get the upper hand on the enemy. Within the snap of a finger, Malroth had gone from being an idol to becoming an untouchable.

After Moonahan, he wasn't so confident anymore, and it wasn't just because of how the Moonbrookians began treating him (although that didn't help). Something _was_ wrong with him and he wasn't so sure it was something he could fix on his own, but with how busy the builder was... No, maybe it was best not to get her involved. Knowing her, she'd worry and fuss over him, and she had more important things to focus on. He could handle his own problems.

"I don't think they like me much," he replied honestly. "Which is fine, I don't really care, but that's why I'm not on patrol tonight. They don't want me around unless we're in the middle of a battle. I'm only useful to them when they can't handle certain enemies, but other than that, they prefer me to stay in my cage."

The builder frowned at that. After constantly hearing Warwick, Anessa, Gerome, and even the king himself speak to her about Malroth's wild tendencies on the battlefield, it hurt to think Malroth was beginning to internalize the way all these people were treating him. Truth be told, if she heard one more person question his loyalty and sanity, she'd probably pack up her things and let _them_ build their own stuff for a little while. Malroth was her best friend, she knew him better than they ever could, so it wasn't fair that they'd allow him to protect them... Only to later question his loyalty once they'd secured victory again. A victory they probably wouldn't have achieved if not for his help.

"Malroth, you're not a wild animal."

_With how they look at me, you'd think that's what I was,_ he thought bitterly.

"Their opinions don't matter," she continued. "What _does_ matter is that we all live to see another day. Every wave of monsters we face is getting tougher and tougher to take down; if we're all able to survive, that's what counts. The Children of Hargon aren't messing around on this island."

"I know that. I just don't understand why everyone's so afraid of me," he admitted. "I'm no different from any from you."

"But Mal, you kind of are."

Hurt flashed across his eyes. He was about to get up, to make up some excuse as to why he needed to leave, because damn it, he couldn't bear the thought of her looking at him like they did, but before he could do anything, the builder placed a hand on his arm. "You're different from us in the sense that you're so much stronger than all of us combined. You're practically a one-man army all on your own. If you wanted to defect and fight on the enemy's side instead, we'd be done for."

His eyes widened. "But I would never—"

"_I_ know you wouldn't, but put yourself in Anessa's shoes for a second. She, Warwick, Gerome, and the king have only ever known what it's like to be at war, so their brains are programmed to think in terms of war tactics. They see someone as strong as you and immediately think 'if he ever wanted to switch sides, we'd be toast.'"

"But if they recognize that someone who's super strong is on their side, wouldn't that bring them relief? Why would they treat that person like—" He stopped, not wanting to admit the way he'd been feeling, but the builder had a hunch what the end of that sentence entailed.

"Like what?"

_Like a feral beast._

The spiky-haired man sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly. "Look, I'm just saying that if someone was on my side and they were ridiculously strong, I'd rest a little easier at night knowing they had my back."

Sympathy colored her expression. She knew exactly how Anessa, Warwick, and Gerome viewed her best friend; they thought he was dangerous, that he could (and would) get them all killed if he wasn't kept on a tight leash, but Malroth _wasn't_ a wild animal. He could be reckless, but he wasn't _stupid_, and besides, none of them knew him like she did; she trusted him with her life, and rightly so. He'd proved countless times in the past without even needing to prove himself that he had a good heart, that he would always protect those he cared about.

"I think they want to trust you, they just don't know how to trust," she half-joked. "Look at how easily they accuse each other of stuff. It's no wonder no one likes this place."

Malroth tried to smile but found he couldn't.

"I'm honestly surprised they haven't started accusing _me_ of stuff," she pressed on, motioning towards her workbench. "If I wanted to play pranks and whatnot, I totally could."

"They don't suspect you because they're smart enough to know that if they do, you'll pack up and leave, and they'll be destroyed," Malroth replied.

It was a thought the builder had considered as well, that they were merely keeping her around because she was the key to winning the supposed never-ending war. Their reasons were purely selfish. They were lucky she was a good person who enjoyed helping people, otherwise, with how they'd been treating Malroth, she probably wouldn't have stuck around this long.

"They know I screwed up."

"Screwed up?" The builder raised an eyebrow. "But you've never—"

Malroth patted the end of his battle axe. It took her a few minutes to get what he was saying, her mouth forming an 'o' when it hit her.

"Moonahan?"

He nodded.

"Okay, so you made a mistake. Look at the lives you saved on Furrowfield and Khrumbul-Dun, and look at all the times you've saved the people here on Moonbrooke: don't you think that counts more?"

"Are you saying the lives of those soldiers didn't matter?"

"Considering I was the one who had to make them coffins, headstones, and bury them myself, no, I'm not saying they don't matter." Malroth openly winced at her words. "And I'm not saying that to add to your guilt. My point is that you made a mistake. We _all_ make mistakes; what matters is that you learn from it and try to do better in the future. You told me once that when you were in Moonahan, you weren't feeling like yourself. If you had been feeling one-hundred percent, would you have let them die?"

"No, of course not!"

"So it was a mistake, then. What was the lesson in this mistake?"

He tried to think. "That I shouldn't go running off on my own into battle?"

"That, and if you're not feeling one-hundred percent, you should tell me so I can try to help you." She sent him a pointed glance and he looked away in shame. "Seriously, what happened in Moonahan was one mistake. Even I could tell you weren't yourself. I think that takes a lot of the blame off your shoulders, if any, because it wasn't your intention to lead those soldiers into the fray. Plus, if I'm being honest... They made the decision to follow you all on their own. They knew the risks if things went wrong. We're in a warzone, after all. Everyone who joins our ranks knows what they're getting themselves into. Not all of the blame is on you, Malroth. One instance of poor judgment, of running recklessly into a fight is not what defines you. What defines you is not just the good you have done, but the way you act and react now, in the present. Leave the events of Moonahan in the past and focus on how you can do better today."

To say Malroth was surprised was an understatement. He knew she was smart, but moments like these really helped to prove that beyond the simpleton's expression, she really was brilliant. And she was right... Those soldiers _had_ followed him all on their own; he _had_ made a mistake, a big one at that, but that didn't give the people of Moonbrooke an excuse to treat him like a monster.

...Well, okay, maybe it did. And although it was oddly difficult for him to set foot in a church, maybe talking to Esther and asking about repentance and whatnot wouldn't be the worst idea in the world, as non-religious as he was. Maybe doing something like that would help him get over what happened in Moonahan. He needed to focus on the present and the future because that's where he could grow and make a difference. The past was done and over with; what mattered was the here and now, and he vowed to be a better, more reliable fighter.

His best friend had also been correct in pointing out that the amount of times he'd saved them far outweighed the times he'd screwed up. Didn't that count for anything? Plus, the more Malroth considered the blonde's words, the more he began to think about how the others constantly went to the builder to "report" their misgivings about him. What if one day their fears and uncertainty about him began to rub off on her? Did she think he was a monster, too?

Was that... Was that why a rift had been forming between them as of late?

"Hey, Builder?"

She hummed in reply. He watched as she grabbed a few spare tree branches to toss into the fireplace. It was a particularly cold night and the warmth was a welcome change from the chilliness lurking within the castle's walls. If Malroth didn't know any better, he'd say her room was the warmest in the castle, and not just because it had a fireplace crammed into such a small space. The builder herself was like sunshine in human form. Even on gray, stormy days, her smile shone like a beacon. He made a mental note to hang out around her more often while on this frozen wasteland of an island.

"Are you..." Goddess, it was hard to say out loud. He feared what she might say, that there was a chance she would admit that she thought of him the way the rest of them did, and he didn't want to know, but at the same time, he _needed_ to know.

"Am I what?" she asked, using a fire poker to stoke the flames.

"Are you afraid of me, too?"

The fire poker fell to the floor with a dull clatter, and she whirled around to face him, shock replacing her usual cheerfulness.

"What? Why would I be afraid of you?"

He wasn't sure how to reply. He'd thought the evidence was clear enough: what happened in Moonahan, his comments about the church, his gaps in memory, the raging inferno of anger inside of him that kept growing with every battle... Something was wrong with him. Hadn't she noticed? The others definitely did. They gave him a wide berth and they had good reason to. They didn't know him nearly as well as she did, but that was the thing: she'd known him far longer. What if secretly, she was waiting for this particular train to wreck itself? What if she'd been watching him since day one and secretly waited for him to go off the rails on his own, nothing and no one to prompt him?

The builder came to sit next to him. She took his hand into hers and intertwined their fingers together, an action that pulled him from his thoughts. She'd never quite held his hand before, and now that she was, he had to admit that it was rather... nice. If it weren't so cold, he'd suggest that they remove their gloves, but it _was_ cold, and so he remained quiet. Besides... He had more things to worry about at the moment than whether or not he could feel her dainty fingers caressing his own calloused ones. _That_ was something he could worry about later on because he'd never quite wanted to hold hands with anyone before, so why was he making an exception for her? Why did it feel so.. not-bad?

"Malroth, you're my best friend," the builder stated gently. "You've saved my life more times than I can even count. Why on earth would I ever be afraid of the one person who's always had my back?"

"Because _they_ are," he replied, nodding his head towards the door, indicating the castle's other occupants. "And I... I can't say I blame them."

The builder let loose a long, tired sigh, hanging her head in exasperation. If they weren't in the middle of a freaking _war_, she'd suggest they up and leave. Her conscience was the only thing telling her to stay because she knew she had to save these people, as ridiculous as they were acting. However, if things weren't as bad as they were, she'd suggest she and Malroth grab what little belongings they'd brought and get the heck out of here, let these people deal with their own problems. How many times had Malroth saved their butts? How many times had he surged forward on the battlefield ahead of them all, taking down the most powerful enemies so that they only had to worry about the smaller, weaker ones, putting his life on the line so that they might have a better chance of preserving theirs? And yet here they were, making him feel awful about himself, treating him like an outcast. It made her sick.

When she lifted her head again, the builder was surprised to see a genuine frown on her best friend's face. Malroth was generally a pretty easygoing guy. He wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows, but he wasn't afraid to smile. He was normally confident, cocky even, and he never once downright frowned like he was now.

...And once the builder truly thought about it, Malroth had never quite come to her for reassurance. This was a first, and not one she liked. She didn't mind being there for him; she did, however, want to smack each of the Moonbrookians who had helped bring him to a point where he began to question himself and how she, his best friend, viewed him.

"I'm not afraid of you," she assured him. "I don't think I could ever be afraid of you."

Malroth released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're sure?"

"As sure as I'm a builder."

"You're not just saying that either?"

"I'm being one-hundred percent honest, Mal. If I was afraid of you, you'd know it. I'm not afraid of you."

"What about the battlefield?"

"What about it?"

"I've heard what they say about me." His eyes drifted down towards the floor as if one of the worn planks was suddenly of great interest. "They think I'm a beast. A man unhinged. I fight too hard and too eagerly."

"Yeah, and if not for you fighting 'too hard,' we'd all be dead," she snorted, making air quotes around 'too hard.' "I've watched you in battle myself, and I don't see a problem with how you fight. You have the strength and the power to keep us all safe, and it's not like you've ever attacked _us_. And honestly, I don't know if you've noticed, but the people here like to point fingers and stir up drama. It's absolutely possible that a spy could be among our numbers since we _are_ in the middle of a war and all, but to sit and gossip and watch each other like a hawk as if we're _all_ trying to bring each other down? I don't normally use this word, but the Moonbrookians are a little crazy, aren't they?"

Malroth didn't agree or disagree. She had a point, really, a point that he'd been trying to drive home to Anessa and the others. What good did it do to point fingers when there was no evidence? What they were doing was weakening their own morale, yet no one listened to him. In fact, they began pointing the finger towards him.

A few heartbeats of silence passed. Malroth didn't quite like how raw and exposed he felt in front of his best friend, but it did feel good to express how he'd been feeling to someone. She understood him more than he liked to admit.

"Whatever they say about you doesn't matter. You wanna know what _I_ say about you?"

He looked up again, startled to find that the builder was looking at him with a level of tender adoration he'd never seen before. At least, no one had ever looked at him that way... Not that he could remember, but still.

"_I_ say that you're a hero," she began, squeezing his hands gently. "I say you're brave, you're strong, and you're a great person. I say you should stop putting your value in what those people think and start believing in yourself again, because you've done some pretty amazing things for a lot of people over the past few months. You restored hope to a lot of hearts. You helped me free Furrowfield and Khrumbul-Dun from the Children of Hargon's clutches. I don't like to think about where we'd all be if not for you lending us your strength and battle expertise."

"What about Moonahan?" he choked out, his guilt finally breaching the surface. At his broken tone, the builder's loving smile faded and concern creased her features. "What about those soldiers who died on my watch? I didn't mean for them to get killed, and I heard what you said before, it's just that I..."

No. He wouldn't tell her about the black-outs where he had no memory of what he'd said or done. It was bad enough that he was in such a sorry state in this moment, pouring out his soul when normally the builder was the one getting emotional and he was cheering _her_ up. It should've been the other way around, he should be the one reassuring her. He mentally kicked himself for not being stronger, for admitting weakness when he should be the one helping the builder to stay strong.

"I wasn't myself," he finished lamely. "I didn't mean for anything bad to happen."

The blonde squeezed his hand again. "I said it before and I'll say it again: you made a mistake. You can't sit and stew in one mistake, Malroth, or you'll drive yourself crazy like these people are currently doing to themselves with all this talk of spies and treachery."

She heaved a sigh, her own exhaustion wearing on her as well as the exhaustion of having to deal with the damage done by all these war-obsessed idiots. "I'm not excusing what happened there. Lives were lost, after all, but today is a different day. You have to focus on the present, not the past. That's honestly how I've been keeping my own sanity: I _know_ people have died. I _know_ the monsters have threatened to send bigger, badder forces after us, that we've got entire armies coming after us in the near future. What I need to focus on is what I can do right now, in this moment, and I think that's what you should focus on, too. Don't worry about what the others think of you; focus on what you think of yourself."

"And if I admit I'm starting to let them get under my skin?"

"That's normal, you're only human, after all." She cracked a smile. "I know if they started treating me the way they've been treating you, I'd feel pretty lousy myself, but don't let them get to you. You keep being _you_. Keep being kind, keep offering to help them even if they don't take the help. I think eventually they'll realize they're being boneheads and they'll realize you're a pretty great guy when they don't have their heads up their own butts."

Malroth chuckled. It was the first time in what felt like forever that he actually laughed. Even the builder joined him, and then they were full-on laughing, as if all the tension and pent-up worry and frustration from the seriousness of Moonbrooke was finally being released. Malroth supposed it was better to laugh than cry, because he was sure the builder had come pretty close to collapsing in a fit of tears, especially when she'd had to bury those poor soldiers.

When they had recomposed themselves, Malroth had to admit that he felt much better. It felt good to have talked to someone, and it felt really good and reassuring to see the builder smile at him again. Not that she'd ever stopped smiling at him, but in this moment, it felt like old times, like they didn't have a war to worry about. It was nice.

It was actually a nice realization to come to. Throughout their time on Moonbrooke, the builder's kindness was a constant. When the others began turning their backs on him, she never once did so, instead continuing to treat him like a man instead of a beast. She never stopped smiling, never stopped being sweet to him.

Out of all the best friends he could have asked for... He was glad to call her his.

"I didn't mean to, uh... You know." He made a circular motion with his wrist, not sure how to say what he wanted to say without feeling like a total wimp. "Sorry. I know you've got a lot on your plate as it is."

The builder smiled, already knowing what he'd meant without him having to break it down for her. "You can talk to me about anything, Mal. Goddess knows you've heard me go off about stuff enough times."

"Yeah, I know. Still."

"I get it." The builder surprised them both by pulling him into a hug, something she didn't do often, but when she did, Malroth secretly loved it. He couldn't remember if anyone had ever hugged him before he wound up on the Isle of Awakening, but if they did, he liked to think no one gave better hugs than the blonde whose arms were currently wrapped tightly around him. He wrapped his own arms around her, for once feeling warm inside and like everything would be okay. Moonbrooke was an island full of war, death, and an overall bad vibe, but at least he and the builder were fine. Even on the grayest days, she really was his ray of sunshine.

"You should go get some rest," she suggested. "We've got another big day of fighting off enemies and building weaponry to hold off said enemies."

"I'm more worried about you," he countered, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. It must have been a trick of the lighting, but for a split second, he was sure her cheeks turned that much pinker. "When's the last time you got some real shut-eye?"

"That's an excellent question, and not one I have a concrete answer for."

Malroth chuckled. "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll stand watch outside and do some patrols whether they want me to or not, make sure the fort stays standing through the night."

The builder went to protest but he held up a hand. "Look, if you're not at your best, we're all done for. They need you just as much as I do, so take care of yourself, alright? I might be brawn, but brawn means nothing without brains behind it. Between both of us, you're definitely brains."

"Good to know that you consider me smart enough to call me the brains of our operation." She laughed. "I'm pretty sure Gerome called me a simpleton the first time he ever laid eyes on me."

The destructive male scowled. "Gerome is an old fart who doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

"Fair point."

"Anyone who thinks you're stupid has never seen your creations. You're a _genius_, Builder."

"Coming from you, that means a lot." A yawn interrupted her. "Okay, yeah, I should probably go to bed."

Malroth stood up and stretched, about to head for the door and begin his own rounds of patrol when her voice piped up behind him.

"Hey, Malroth?"

He turned to face her once more. "Hm?"

"Do you feel any better?"

"I do." He grinned. "Thank you."

"Good, I'm glad." The builder's grin matched his. "Come back anytime, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, will do. Go to bed, nerd."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'. Good night."

"Good night, Builder."

* * *

The next morning, the builder was sitting with Malroth while working on her second jacket potato. Funnily enough, most of the other soldiers decided to join the two of them, some even talking to Malroth and acknowledging his presence for once. As a matter of fact, most of the attention was on him while the builder poured most of her energy into eating and waking up more. They were having a good day so far, and the destructive male was feeling more like himself than he had in the three weeks since they'd arrived here. He wasn't sure if she'd had a word with the others or not (most likely not, considering they'd both walked to the cafeteria together), but either way, it was nice to not feel unwanted for a change.

"How'd you learn to fight like that?" one female soldier asked, watching him with wide, doe-like eyes. "I was trained by the best, and even _I_ couldn't parry like you did with that one monster."

A few others nodded in agreement, their attention fully on Malroth who was eating up the attention and basking in their newfound acceptance. The builder was pleased to see that the soldiers had had a change of heart. Hopefully they would start to see that Malroth wasn't this big, scary monster; he was on their side, and he was trustworthy even if sometimes he got carried away during the heat of battle. He deserved to be recognized and appreciated.

Speak of the handsome devil, her destructive best friend grinned. "It's easy, you just gotta wait for the right moment, timing is everything and—"

Suddenly, a few soldiers came rushing into the cafeteria, effectively interrupting any and all attempts at enjoying a hot breakfast and good conversation.

"Monsters incoming!" one of them cried. "The first line of defenses has been breached!"

The other soldiers in the room scrambled to grab their weapons, a few soldiers who were already equipped sprinting out the door to face the enemy head-on.

Malroth's gaze flickered towards the builder, only to find that she was already looking at him pointedly, the last half of her jacket potato sitting idly in front of her.

"Go get 'em," she said with a wink. Malroth's face grew hot and he stood, grabbing his own weapon and heading for the battlefield. He noticed that as he made his way through the castle walls, a man on a mission, some soldiers fell in line behind him, eager to follow his lead, while others gave him space or purposely moved out of his way, wanting nothing to do with him. This time, however, he didn't let it get to him. He focused on the soldiers who were willing to fight alongside him, rumors be damned, and he focused on the blonde ray of sunshine worth protecting in the bitter blizzard that was Moonbrooke.

The one person who mattered most believed in him. And if she believed in him, then that was all the reason he needed to continue fighting.


	21. Partners for Life

**I figured I'd treat y'all to another, long-awaited oneshot. ****This one was requested ages ago, and I'm so sorry for the wait; life got in the way and I wasn't really able to write for a spell. I've been working on this for months, and I finally got inspired the other day to finish it up. Writing a wedding scene is actually a bit more difficult than I initially thought, haha.**

**Hope this oneshot does your idea justice, edb5678 :D**

**I had Katy Perry's "Never Worn White" stuck in my head the whole time I wrote this.**

* * *

_"If Malroth and the Builder were to get married, what would their wedding day look like?"_

**Partners for Life**

_After cooking the scallywinkle until it was properly seared, the Builder handed Lulu her makeshift dinner. The pinkette scarfed it down in an unladylike manner, but the blonde knew better than to say anything. One, it would be rude, and two, what did manners mean when they were on a deserted island, barely figuring out a plan for survival until help arrived? The Builder knew she'd probably eat in such a way once she got hungry, too._

_She had to admit, she couldn't have picked a stranger pair to be her fellow castaways. Lulu was bossy and could be a little irritating, truth be told, and Malroth... Well, he was unique, to say the least. Who thought dead bodies were funny? Okay, so maybe his whole "__dead in the water" pun was a _little_ funny in hindsight, but it was still morbid. And then there were his looks: she'd never met anyone with glowing red eyes before, and his name... There was something familiar about his name..._

_Once she was finished eating, realization crossed Lulu's features. "Oh, how rude of me! I just realized I never asked your names."_

_The Builder offered hers and Malroth gave his. As Lulu mulled the new information over, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "...Builder and Malroth, you say? I know you're a builder, but what do you do, Malroth?"_

_"Well, I... Actually, I don't know what I do," t__he spiky-haired male admitted with a shrug. "__I woke up on this island, but I can't remember anything before that. My memory's completely blank."_

_Lulu giggled. "Well, well. An apprentice builder and her amnesiac friend. What an unexpected partnership!"_

_Malroth scoffed, giving the blonde a once-over that clearly stated Lulu was out of her mind for assuming such a thing. "Oh, we're not partners. If you think a guy like me would team up with a puny little runt like her, you must be dreaming."_

* * *

Malroth regarded his reflection with a slight scowl, but he wasn't actually angry. He was incredibly nervous, which, he knew he shouldn't be, but the fact was that he wanted _her_ to be happy. Would she be happy to see him all dressed up like this? Or would she burst into laughter and think he looked ridiculous, like a badboon trying to dress up like a human?

Would she think his hair, normally tied back into a ponytail but allowed to be long, wild, and loose for this occasion, looked bad? Would she think he looked so unlike his usual self that she'd call off the whole thing? He knew she wasn't shallow; the Builder wasn't Lulu—far from it, thank the goddess—but this was a special day. Malroth had done enough research and endured enough lectures from Lulu to know this day was supposedly going to be the "best day of a lady's life." If he wasn't perfect in the Builder's eyes, if this day turned out to be a bust, would she... Would she walk away from him?

A knock sounded at his door. Malroth's anxiety spiked for a brief second before he reminded himself that it wasn't time yet, his friends were probably just checking on him. Sure enough, after he called that it was unlocked, Bonanzo, Den, Digby, and Dougie entered, each wearing suits that matched his. The miners cleaned up pretty well considering the first couple of times they'd tried suits on, they began flexing in the mirror, splitting and tearing the sleeves. Lulu had been irate, but the Builder had simply laughed, stating they looked better that way, and besides, what mattered was that they'd be present. So here both miners stood, sleeveless suits and all.

Malroth hadn't needed any alterations to his outfit for today. The crisp white shirt, black slacks, and blazer, along with the shiny black loafers looked perfect on him, like he'd been made to wear such finery. Lulu had once told him that wearing one's best clothes was a confidence booster. These were his supposed best clothes, and if that statement was true, why didn't he feel an ounce of confidence? He had a healthy self-esteem, so why was he feeling so insecure today?

"Malroth, my boy! You cut a handsome figure in that suit if I do say so myself." Bonanzo clapped the other man on the shoulder with pride. "How are you feeling about the wedding?"

Truth be told, the master of destruction was sick with anxiety. He was used to feeling butterflies around the Builder, but those were _good_ butterflies; what he was feeling now was bordering on fear. What he couldn't figure out was _why_ he felt so afraid... He and the Builder had been dating for the past two years, and in that time, they'd never been happier. She was his other half in more ways than simply being the vessel of creation, and he couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else. He'd asked her to marry him a few weeks ago and she'd _agreed_. They'd helped set up the wedding... even though Lulu pretty much took over most of the planning and injected lots of her own preferences and likes, which was fine since the Builder wasn't picky and Malroth had no clue where to even begin when setting everything up. All he was focused on was his bride-to-be and making her happy.

Initially, marriage had not been a familiar concept to him. Lulu had mentioned it a few times in his presence, although each time, she'd been discussing her own looming wedding to _Perry_, of all people. The entire Isle had been shocked to learn the redheaded farmer had been secretly dating the bossy pinkette for a long time, and truthfully, they weren't the worst couple in the world; funnily enough, they were good for each other. Lulu kept Perry from becoming too lazy and Perry kept Lulu from becoming too overbearing.

If Perry and Lulu could walk down the aisle and make it look like a breeze, why couldn't he do the same? Why was he nervous to marry his best friend and lover?

Den seemed to read his mind. "Everythin' 'll go smoothly, Malroff. It's normal to feel jittery before yer weddin'. This is a big step, after all."

"Jittery? Malroth?" Bonanzo chuckled. "I didn't know both of those words could exist in the same sentence."

The other men chuckled, but Malroth didn't have it in him to even smile. He was trying to get his nerves under control. Logically, he knew there was no reason to be nervous, but logic wasn't doing anything to quell the uneasiness in his stomach.

"Remember that yer marryin' yer best mate," Digby piped up, drawing the destructive male from his thoughts. "You two 'ave gone on all sorts o' adventures over the years, 'aven't ya? Fink o' this as just anuvver adventure."

Malroth considered the miner's words. He was right: this _was_ just another adventure, one that wasn't already somewhat familiar. He'd be with the Builder, the one person he'd been with ever since ending up on the Isle of Awakening. She knew him better than anyone else, just as he knew her best. They always looked out for each other, always had each other's backs, always helped each other see the silver lining in situations where maybe there wasn't much positivity to be found.

She was worth it. If there was anyone Malroth could picture himself spending the rest of his life with, whether there was a ring on his finger or not, it was her.

He could do this.

_He could do this._

* * *

"Honestly, Builder, if you don't stop moving around, I'll never get your makeup right!"

"Sorry, Lulu." The blonde offered an apologetic smile. She hadn't meant to shift her position; it was an unconscious habit—she fidgeted when her nerves were on edge. "I'm just nervous is all."

The pinkette huffed. "Yes, well, try to be _less_ nervous."

"Cut 'er some slack, Lu," Babs giggled, working on the Builder's hair. "After all, she's gettin' married today! I'd be a little nervous too if I were in 'er shoes."

"I know it sounds silly," the Builder said, trying not to blink as Lulu applied mascara to her lashes. "But this is a big step, you know? What if he realizes he doesn't want to be with me? What if we're not ready for this kind of thing and we find out too late and—"

Her rant was cut off by Lulu's hand. The pinkette huffed again, though she didn't appear the least bit irritated.

"Honestly, Builder, if Perry and I can make it as a couple, then you two _certainly_ can," she assured. "Trust me, I know how nerve-wracking today is, but everything will go smoothly. You're not just marrying anyone—you're marrying your best friend. Not many people get to say that, you know. The bond you and Malroth share is special. You two will be fine."

"What if he regrets marrying me?" the blonde asked meekly.

"Why would he?"

"I don't know..." The Builder knew she wasn't exactly the most gorgeous girl out there... nor was she the most feminine. The Builder was confident in herself: she didn't have low self-esteem or anything akin to that. It's just that sometimes her brain went into overdrive, and because she cared a lot about Malroth, she wanted the best for him... And sometimes that meant worrying that one day, he might think she wasn't the "best." Maybe one day he'd get bored or tired of her, or maybe he'd want someone who was more dainty and feminine, someone more like... Well, like Lulu.

At first, before she'd fallen in love with Malroth, she'd thought he would make a good match for Lulu, if anyone. The pinkette was like a princess and he a prince (and yes, the Builder was aware that they both already thought of themselves as royal-material as well—Malroth with his Empire of Evisceration; Lulu with Lulutopia). There was a certain tension between the two that sometimes made the blonde wonder if they secretly liked each other with how they bickered. There was always a fine line between love and hate, right? And besides, if Lulu and Malroth thought of themselves as royalty, wouldn't it make sense for one "royal" to marry another?

The Builder recognized she was more on a servant level than that of royalty. Unlike her two best friends, she didn't care about golden tiles, silken gowns, or piles of riches to be happy (not that Malroth or Lulu were materialistic; the Builder could understand their preference and appreciation for finer things). The blonde was happy to help others and get her hands dirty; she was happy to sacrifice her time, energy, and happiness to ensure others' needs were met. She didn't need a kingdom; she'd be happy just to have a roof over her head and a hot meal before bed at night. It didn't take much to make her happy.

Lulu and Malroth, however, were not interested in each other in the way she'd initially thought. They were good friends, sure, but not lovers. Malroth even gagged when the Builder asked him if he viewed Lulu in a romantic light. It turned out that he viewed someone else romantically, and it certainly wasn't Lulu or Babs or any other woman on the Isle of Awakening... This mystery woman he was pining for turned out to be a certain builder who had helped him save the world. Little did he know, however, that during their adventures, the bubbly blonde had developed feelings for him, too.

On the outside, Malroth was gruff. He was brash, brutish, and intimidating. He could take down armies single-handedly without breaking a sweat; he could wield the heaviest, most devastating weapons without issue whereas if any other man or woman tried to do the same, or even lift said weapons, they'd topple over, weapon included. Along with brawn, Malroth wasn't stupid; actually, the Builder had found herself spending multiple evenings and afternoons having insightful conversations with him. She understood everything he said or didn't say, and he understood her. They connected effortlessly. He protected her while she built wonderful things, and in exchange, she made him anything and everything he asked for, no matter how big or small. On top of possessing inhuman strength and sharp intellect, Malroth was handsome. He may have thought of himself as a potential ruler over the Isle of Awakening, but truthfully, much like Lulu looked like a princess, Malroth looked like a prince, and when he put on that suit he wore when he played piano at Den's bar... He truly _did_ look like royalty.

Somewhere along their adventures, the Builder started noticing how handsome he was, how attractive it was that his muscles would bulge and ripple whenever he worked out, trained, or fought; she started thinking he was cute when he laughed or grinned, the tips of his canine teeth poking out from his upper lip like two tiny fangs; she started feeling butterflies anytime his eyes would lock with hers for too long, his gaze intense and always enough to make her feel weak in the knees. It actually really hurt when, during their time on Moonbrooke, they'd had that big fight and he'd walked away from her, stating matter-of-factly that once Atlas was defeated, their friendship was officially over.

It was because of Moonbrooke that the Builder realized her feelings ran deeper than simple, platonic friendship. She _loved_ Malroth. She was in love with her best friend. And so after she rescued him from Hargon and they made their illusory world a firm reality, she'd sat down with him and expressed her feelings.

...And by 'express,' she'd cupped his face and kissed him silly, and because he'd been feeling the same things too, he'd kissed her back with just as much enthusiasm, if not more. The rest, as they say, was history.

The blonde knew she had no reason to be nervous. She and Malroth knew each other better than anyone else; she trusted him with her life, and vice versa. They'd been roommates for goddess knows how long, so moving in together wouldn't be anything new, and whatever habits they both had, they'd already grown used to them. It was just that the Builder knew she wasn't the prettiest. She wasn't always the smartest, she had her days when she could be a jerk, and she wasn't always able to be "on." There were lots of other women on the Isle far more gorgeous and interesting than she was, and in fact, many women had even approached her best friend, asking for a date, yet he'd turned each and every one of them down. It became obvious that Malroth could have anyone he wanted, so what if one day he decided to drop her for someone else who was prettier, smarter, tougher... Someone _better_? Malroth was a warrior, so it'd make sense that he chose someone who could hold her own with a weapon, and what if one day he decided she wasn't strong enough or good enough? What if—

Babs clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she began to secure some of the Builder's hair with a bobby pin. It was as if she'd read the anxious girl's thoughts, displeased at what she'd seen there. "'Ave a little more faith in Malroth. I've seen the way 'e looks at you—'e wouldn't 'ave asked ya to marry 'im if 'e wasn't serious about makin' ya 'appy."

"I know, but what if..." The blonde worried her bottom lip. She had so many "what if" questions whirling around her brain that it was hard to pick just one, plus Babs and Lulu seemed to have an answer to everything she threw at them. Surely they wouldn't have an answer about how married life would work out between her and Malroth. It hurt a lot to even consider the possibility that one day, Malroth might tire of her company. What if he found another woman who was prettier, smarter, and better than she was? What if he wound up regretting choosing her?

"One bouquet for the beautiful bride, all ready to go!" Rosie chirped as she entered the room. Babs and Lulu squealed in delight at the beautiful arrangement of coralilies, milkblossoms, and roses, all carefully grown and handpicked by the head farmer herself. Each of the leading ladies of the Isle wore different colored dresses (Rosie suited light green; Lulu looked good in blue; Babs shone in gold; Anessa would be donning a red that matched the color of her usual armor), and for good reason—their colors helped to make the Builder stand out in her white, princess-style wedding dress.

The tealette beamed at the sight of her friend all prettied up. "You look amazing, Builder!"

"Thanks, Rosie." The blonde didn't _feel_ amazing.

"Everything will be fine," Lulu piped up, noticing her friend's discomfort. "Unless you don't want to marry him."

"Oh, Builder... Are you getting cold feet?" Rosie asked, her features softening sympathetically.

Hurt flashed across the Builder's face as she turned to her oldest friend. "I want to marry him! That's not the issue here, it's just that.. what if one day he meets someone better than me? What if one day he regrets asking me to marry him? There are so many women who might be a better match for him... What if he ends up wishing he had married someone else?"

"Malroth wouldn't ask you to marry him if he wasn't serious," a new voice reasoned. "Trust me when I say, he's serious about you, Builder."

Anessa joined them then, the picture of fierceness even in her long lavender gown. When she wasn't leading an army or training soldiers, she cleaned up nicely. It was a little odd to see her without her usual armor and helmet, but overall, Anessa was a knockout in her own right. "Builder, please have confidence in yourself. You're an incredible woman and any man would be lucky to have you. We've all seen how Malroth treats you, how he raves about you and looks at you. He's a man head over heels in love, and if he wasn't, he isn't the type to lead someone on or play games. If he didn't think you were worthy of becoming his bride, he would have never asked you."

"Isn't that kinda what I said before?" Babs murmured, nudging the Builder playfully. The blonde smiled weakly.

"He loves you, plain and simple," Anessa continued, her expression gentle for once instead of sharp. "I obviously don't know Malroth as well as you do, but I like to think I know him well enough to surmise that he isn't looking for anyone else to spend the rest of his life with. He wants to marry you because you're _you_. It doesn't matter if there are other women around who are prettier or somehow better; Malroth only has eyes for you, Builder, and that's what matters. Have confidence in yourself and your relationship. You two are a perfect match and you share a bond unlike any I've ever seen before. You care deeply for each other and you both get along so well that I know of multiple men and women who look upon your relationship and hope they meet someone who makes them happy as much as you and Malroth make each other happy. If that is not true love, then I cannot fathom what is."

Lulu nodded. "Well said, Anessa! Couldn't have put it better myself."

Turning to the Builder, the pinkette raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Hear that? You need to be more confident in yourself and you need to have more faith in that heathen you'll be marrying. You trust him, don't you?"

"With my life." It wasn't even a question.

"Then you'll be fine. Stop overthinking it and start focusing on how wonderful the wedding will go. You have to keep a positive outlook, Builder. If you think negatively, of course negative things will happen, but if you think positively, then think how many good things will come of it. It's okay to be nervous, but remember: you and Malroth are a team. You can and will make this work, I just know it. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in him."

The blonde exhaled the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Anessa, Babs, and Lulu were right; Malroth had chosen to ask her to be his wife. He only ever said what he meant and meant what he said. He'd probably call her a wimp for overthinking all of this and worrying about whether or not he'd regret marrying her...

She could do this. She was marrying her best friend and the love of her life. Everything would go smoothly.

_She could do this._

* * *

Standing at the altar was a weird experience. Malroth kept fighting the urge to tug at his tie. The pews were already filled with their friends and a few newcomers who had joined the isle's population throughout his travels with the Builder. The chapel was decorated from head to toe with floral decorations, all placed perfectly and carefully along the stained glass windows. It was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for a wedding, and everyone was chatting excitedly; many cast glances towards Malroth and his best man, who was, funnily enough, Perry of all people. Digby and Dougie were going back and forth about some railroad track plans, and truthfully, Malroth was grateful that no one was trying to talk to him. He was too busy trying to hold himself together to hold a decent conversation.

A few girls entered the chapel, of which he instantly recognized Rosie, Anessa, and Babs. They hurried towards the front, each looking rather beautiful for the occasion. Digby and Dougie just about broke their necks to get a better look at Babs.

"Bloody 'ell, Babs, you look gorgeous!" Dougie whistled, earning a punch from Digby.

"You knuckle'ead, she's more than gorgeous! She's a right goddess!"

"Oi! Don't be wailin' on me!"

"I'll wail on ya anytime you fink o' makin' goo-goo eyes at Babs!"

"Me muscles are better fer Babs! Not like yer muscles which are goin' all flabby."

"Why I oughta—"

"Dougie and Digby!" Babs' voice rang out, her tone stern and unimpressed. Even in the smooth, elegant gown she wore, Babs still managed to maintain an air of no-nonsense when she put her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. "You better not be startin' no trouble! This 'ere's Malroth and the Builder's weddin' day. If I gotta drag you two out by yer ears in front o' all these onlookers, I'll do so and I can promise ya it won't be pretty. Behave yourselves."

"Yes, ma'am..." Both miners quit their bickering and shuffled back into place.

Malroth, who had been watching the scene with amusement, made a mental note to never get on Babs' bad side.

Lulu entered the chapel next, and beside him, Perry sighed dreamily. He lifted a hand to wave at his wife, who smiled and blushed, waving back as she took her position next to the other leading ladies. Before she did so, she pulled Malroth into a friendly half-hug.

"Wait 'til you see your bride," she gushed, her eyes twinkling. "I think you're in for a shock."

"Is that good or bad?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

She chuckled. "Definitely good. Congratulations, by the way."

The destructive male nodded his thanks, his nerves even worse than before at the prospect that this was all really happening. Now that all the best men and the bridesmaids were in their places, it was time for the bride to arrive. Pretty soon, Malroth would be a married man. It was an odd thought, regarding himself as married... He could still remember the first day he'd met the Builder, how weak and scrawny she was, and how he'd scoffed at Lulu's assumption that they were partners.

_Now look at us_, he thought, a soft smile tugging at his lips. _We're partners, alright._

Suddenly, Perry nudged him. "Oi, Malroth, you still nervous at all?"

The groom glowered at him in reply.

Perry chuckled weakly. "Just askin'. Don't worry none, it'll go right as rain, you'll see. It's always nerve-wrackin' before the weddin' gets underway, but once you see your bride... Everythin'll be alright. Trust me on that, mate."

The chapel doors opened and the chatter immediately quieted down as everyone turned to see the bride. Malroth straightened, his eyes instantly fixing on the two figures entering. The first person his gaze locked onto was Bonanzo, the Builder's self-proclaimed father figure (of whom he'd actually become sort of like a father to over the years she'd known him). He was the one who would walk her down the aisle, proud tears already streaking the older man's face despite the wedding just beginning.

The second person, the one he'd been nervous and excited to see, the one he was ready to jump head-first into married life with... The second person was the Builder, her delicate hand resting on the crook of Bonanzo's arm.

Malroth had seen the Builder at her best and worst. At best, her hair was in perfect twin tails that shone in the sunlight, her face bright and cheerful, a spring in her step and a rosiness to her cheeks. At her worst, the Builder was still pretty, just covered in a wealth of dirt and grime. She'd never been the type to shy away from swamps, mud, or even the plasma rivers that ran throughout the Unholy Holm. She wasn't afraid to get dirty, and boy had she gotten filthy throughout their quest—sometimes she acquired so much muck that a regular ten-minute bath would end up taking two hours. Even so, no matter how clean or dirty she was, he always thought she was beautiful.

He'd seen her get so mad that she'd stomp her feet, her pretty face twisted into a pout that was more adorable and endearing than it was intimidating. He'd seen her cry, seen her sick and weak, banged up from battles, chipper at the prospect of building new things or having built things that were being used and appreciated by others. He'd seen her happy and worried and everything in-between.

Whatever anxieties and worries had been spinning around in his mind vanished at the sight of the white-clad woman approaching him. Her hands, which were covered in lacy white gloves with a floral pattern, clutched a bouquet comprised of milkblossoms, coralilies, and roses. The Builder's usual pigtails had been traded in for an updo, a few strands of her hair framing her face. It wasn't often that the Builder wore makeup, yet today, her eyes popped more than usual with a dash of mascara and eyeliner. Her lips were glossy and her cheeks had a touch of blush to them.

Lillian tossed flower petals behind the blonde as she walked, grinning and practically skipping, yet Malroth barely even noticed. His eyes were glued to the woman he loved, the wind practically knocked from his lungs as he drank in how utterly gorgeous she looked.

If people had once thought _him_ a god, then they didn't know what a divine force looked like. The builder, on the other hand... She looked _heavenly_. Like she'd come down straight from the heavens to grace them all with her presence. The words _I'm one lucky man _played through his mind on repeat, and he had to admit, he certainly _did_ feel lucky that this woman was the one he would get to call his wife.

Through the thin veil, he could make out her features: the small, cute mouth; the button nose; the bright blue eyes that always seemed to hold a spark of determination in them; the light freckles courtesy of countless days spent working under the Khrumbul-Dun sun. Malroth couldn't help but _gape_ at her. There were so many emotions overwhelming him that it was hard to tell which one won out: love, admiration, pride, excitement, happiness, awe... In the end, his feelings decided for him and his eyes grew watery. He fought to keep it together—how dumb would he look bawling at his own wedding?!—yet his body betrayed him, and a single tear slipped down his cheek before he could wipe it away. He'd never been a crier, but damn it, she was so beautiful and sweet and amazing, he couldn't believe this incredible woman was the one he'd get to spend the rest of his life with.

She was _stunning_. The Builder was already so beautiful, even without makeup, even when she had a bad case of bed-head or she had an adorable frown on her face, her cheeks puffed in a pout, eyes narrowed but never quite intimidating. To see her dressed up in such a beautiful, expertly sewn white dress, makeup accentuating her natural beauty, her pretty hands clutching a bouquet suitable for someone as gorgeous as she... He still couldn't believe someone like _her_ would say yes to someone like _him_.

What he didn't realize was that she was just as awe-struck as he. The blonde had seen her best friend get all fancied up before. She knew good and well that Malroth could pull off a suit, wild hair and all, not to mention he looked rather striking in his normal purple jacket and orange pants, yet today... Today he was the picture of "dashing." Handsome. Dare she say it—_sexy_. His hair looked good in its natural, wild state, no hairband holding it all back, and the tuxedo fit him perfectly despite his muscular build. Those fierce red eyes seemed to pop even more thanks to the monochrome clothes he wore, his smoldering gaze almost enough to make her weak in the knees. Upon drinking in his appearance, all dressed up like this in such form-fitting, dapper clothing, the Builder could understand how Hargon had created this person to be the vessel of a god. He was the picture of what a god-turned-mortal would look like.

His personality was a direct contrast to hers. He was gruff, rough, and tough, through and through. Where she was soft and compassionate, he could be harsh and blunt. While he looked like the picture of a dark, foreboding night, she was sunshine and bright summer days. They complemented each other in every way possible, at least, she liked to think they did. He protected her and taught her how to be strong, and in return, she softened his rough edges, helped him to be a little more understanding. They encouraged each other to be the best version of themselves, and whether they were going through rough patches or smooth sailing, the Builder knew she could count on Malroth, and Malroth knew the Builder was always right there beside him.

The girls had been right. As the Builder stared at her groom, she couldn't help but think that she really _was_ lucky. She was marrying her best friend. Marriage was a little scary, but it was another adventure, one that she and Malroth would be tackling together. If they could defeat Atlas, the Brainy Badboon, hell, even Hargon and the monstrous, _real_ incarnation of Malroth to boot, then they could handle a semi-normal life together, hand-in-hand.

...After all, weren't they already doing just that? Hadn't they been doing that for years now, even if for a while, they hadn't been anything more than simple friends?

Lulu was right. If anyone could make it work, the Builder and Malroth could.

When the Builder was finally standing before him, her lips turned up into a nervous smile, he reached over and took her free hand into his. For once, his gloves were absent; his tan skin and black fingernails contrasted nicely with her porcelain complexion, her hand small and delicate within his own rough, calloused one. They were direct contrasts in every way, even in attitude, yet these contrasts are what made them such a great couple.

_You're so beautiful,_ he thought. As if she'd heard his thoughts, she blushed and looked away bashfully. He found himself thinking that he could stare at her for hours, because honestly, she was just so _pretty._

The priest cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the name of our fair goddess to witness these two souls joining together in holy matrimony..."

The rest of his words seemed to be a blur. Malroth and the Builder kept stealing glances at each other in between trying to listen to what the priest said. Unlike most wedding ceremonies, they didn't exchange their vows publicly; it wasn't that they didn't have vows, it's just that Malroth felt weird about saying mushy things in public. The Builder knew him well enough to know that later on, when it was just them together privately, he'd say whatever was in the deepest parts of his heart.

"...Do you take Malroth to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The Builder blushed. Her heart was pounding and the butterflies in her stomach were intense. This was it, this was the man she was to spend the rest of her life with, and goddess, she was so excited to start this new adventure with him.

"I do."

"And Malroth, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." He couldn't say yes fast enough. He'd choose her over and over again, every single time. He was pretty sure his heart had belonged to her from the moment they first met.

"Then by the power and authority vested in me by our wonderful goddess, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Malroth carefully lifted the veil from her face, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his features as he fully drank in the Builder's appearance. Whoever had done her makeup knew what they were doing because somehow, she looked more radiant than usual. His eyes flickered down to her pink, gloss-covered lips and, as he leaned in to kiss her, she surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and smooching him senseless.

The guests cheered and clapped at the sight, Babs and the miners even wolf-whistling at the Builder's boldness. Malroth chuckled against her mouth and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they kissed, their first official kiss as husband and wife.

When they pulled apart, Malroth rested his forehead against hers, both of them grinning like idiots. As they looked into each other's eyes, two glorious aquamarine oceans delving into a pair of rubies, they could see the rest of their lives stretched out before them. They could see a bright future filled with more adventures, more laughs and smiles, more moments where things were a little rocky but would ultimately make them stronger. They could see their friends remaining around them, a rag-tag little family comprised of big hearts, and maybe one day... Maybe one day, Malroth and the Builder would find themselves welcoming a little one to add to their family.

Most importantly, however, they could see that in each other, Malroth and the Builder had a partner for life, and they would face everything together just as they always had.


End file.
